


Dissociation

by Bebedora



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt!Jim, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Breakdown, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Assault, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 10:42:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 67,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1301974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bebedora/pseuds/Bebedora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Set after Into Darkness, at the start of the five-year-mission.]  Kirk comes face to face with his worst enemy--himself.  As he spirals downward into his own personal Hell, he runs the risk of taking the ship with him.  Rated for violence, language and adult situations.  [[COMPLETE]]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dissociation

                _“…Space is disease and danger, wrapped in darkness and silence…”_

_“…James T. Kirk was considered to be a great man. He went on to captain the U.S.S. Enterprise... but that was another life. A life I will deprive you of just like I did your father!…”_

_“...There’s greatness in you, but not an ounce of humility…”_

_“…Is there nothing you wouldn’t do for your family?...”_

_“…because you are my friend…”_

 

_“Jim?”_

“Jim!”

“Dammit man, will you acknowledge me?”

Captain James T. Kirk snapped himself from his thoughts and stared blankly at his Chief Medical Officer. The older man scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. He stood in front of the Captain’s desk in his ready room, tapping his foot.

“Did you even hear a thing I just said?”

Kirk sighed and looked at his friend with tired eyes. “You want me to come to Sick Bay for a check-up, and _‘…don’t you dare skip out on me or I’ll hunt you down and jab a goddamn hypo where the sun don’t shine.’_ That about cover it?”

McCoy’s glowered. “Don’t get smart with me, Jim. I can tell that you’re not sleeping well, and Carol tells me that you haven’t been eating much. Now, are you going to tell me why, or do I have to drag it out of you?”

“I’m fine, Bones. Really.”

“Like hell you’re fine,” the older man scoffed. “You were late for your last two shifts and…”

“Wait, a minute, how’d you know that?”

McCoy smirked. “I have my sources. I mean it; I want your ass in Sick Bay before the day is out. You need some blood tests to rule out anemia.”

“I don’t have anemia.”

“Well somethin’s going on with you! I know you’re not feeling well right now just by looking at you!” Kirk started to speak, but was cut off. “…and don’t tell me that you feel fine! You’re pale, getting thinner by the day and your hands were just shaking a minute ago.”

Kirk looked down at his hands and scowled. “Trust me, alright? I promise I’ll come to you if I feel like shit.”

“Trust you?” McCoy growled. “That’ll be the day. I’m worried about you, Jim.” He approached the desk and leaned over, resting his hands on the top. “I’m speaking as your best friend right now, not your CMO. You need to be honest with me. I can’t help you if you won’t open up.”

“I don’t need any help, Bones. Really. Just drop it.”

McCoy threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I don’t know why I bother sometimes! It’s like talking to a damn brick wall! You need a complete blood workup, cardio monitoring and a body scan. Don’t fight me on this.”

“All that’s really not necessary.”

“You don’t get a choice, Jim. I’ll tell you what’s necessary and what’s not. Sick Bay—by day’s end—or I pull rank. Something’s up with you and we need to figure out what it is. You can choose to cooperate or not, but I _will_ get to the bottom of this.”

Kirk rolled his eyes. “Are we finished? Because I have a lot of files to go over before I go back to the bridge.”

McCoy pursed his lips. “Yeah, sure.”

“You’re dismissed, Doctor.” The doctor furrowed his brows and Kirk watched as McCoy turned silently and exited the room, hands clenched into fists at his side.

Kirk swiveled his chair around and faced the blackness of space. He sighed and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He begged his brain to stop the headache that was threatening to rear its ugly head.   The pain in his head had been consistently present for weeks, dull and always there. Every once and a while, it would spike in intensity and turn into a migraine.

He hoped today was not one of those days.

Of course, he had lied to McCoy every time the doctor asked about how he was feeling. He had successfully avoided most of his medical exams, citing bridge business or lack of time. The doctor had grumbled and threatened, but in the end Jim had always managed to calm him down with a peace offering. Usually bourbon.

_“…Dammit, Jim, I mean it. You need to take better care of yourself. One of these days you’re gonna collapse on the bridge.” McCoy swirled the amber liquid around in the highball glass, a smirk crossing his face. “You know…your performance in bed could suffer too.”_

_“Shut up. My sexual prowess is just fine, thank you.”_

_McCoy grunted and drained his glass. “You might be a tiger in the sack now, but if you keep this shit up—this whole running yourself ragged business—well, just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”_

_“Gee, thanks, Bones. Glad to know you’re so interested in my love life.” He poured the doctor another shot. “You need to get laid…”_

Three weeks had passed since that conversation. Jim had seen his physical stamina start to suffer, his attention span decreasing.

He wasn’t eating well.

His virility was waning.

And he definitely wasn’t sleeping.

He couldn’t…

The dreams were too intense to allow him peaceful rest.

As he sat in his chair, staring out into the void, he tried to make himself forget. All the images that haunted his sleep—Khan and the warp core—they were relentless. Plaguing his everyday life until he was no longer able to go more than a few moments without seeing Singh lurking in the shadows of his quarters, or having the bridge suddenly turning into the claustrophobic access tunnel leading to the core.

Kirk’s hands began to quake again, his chest constricting as he was suddenly unable to catch his breath.

_“…On behalf of Christopher Pike—my friend—I accept your surrender…”_

_“…Ignore me and you will get everyone on this ship killed…”_

A sharp pain in his chest jolted Kirk back from his mind, doubling him over in his chair. He recognized the all-too-familiar symptoms. Shaking hands, difficulty breathing, and intense pain over his heart: he was having a panic attack.

Jim extended his arms and pushed the chair back until it touched the wall. Gripping the edge of the desk so tightly his knuckles turned white, he stretched his back as he tried to take deep, even breaths. He knew he had to squelch this attack quickly, or he would have no other solution but to call for McCoy.

_In and out…_

_You’re not in the core…_

_In and out…_

_Khan’s gone…_

_In and out…_

The comm beeped. Jim tried to swallow the bile rising in his throat.

_Not now…_

_In and out…_

_I’m alive…_

_In and out…_

It signaled again.

_Don’t puke, Captain._

_In and out…_

The tightness in his chest began to subside as the attack waned. Jim lifted his head cautiously, cracking an eye open to peer at the viewscreen on his desk. The comm was coming from the bridge. It rang again, this time accompanied by a soft voice.

_“Captain? Is everything alright?”_

Uhura’s voice was comforting. Kirk took a deep breath and sat up, connecting the hail with a tap of his finger.

“Just fine, Lieutenant. What do you need?” He inhaled deeply, feeling the air expand his lungs to almost painful fullness. He slowly let the breath out, and along with it the remnants of the panic attack.

_“We’ve been hailed by a small cargo ship. Their engines have given out and they’re requesting assistance.”_

“I’ll be there in a minute. Have them stand by.”

_“Yes, Sir.”_

Jim stood and walked to the small bathroom off of his ready room. He took a moment to splash a bit of cold water on his face, slapping his cheeks as the cool liquid came in contact with his skin. He looked into the mirror above the tiny metal sink. Blue eyes stared back at him. He blinked lethargically.

_“You can’t even guarantee the safety of your own crew…”_

When his eyes opened once again, it wasn’t his own face staring back at him, but that of Khan.

Jim jumped back; squeezing his eyes together so hard it hurt his face. He backed up against the wall, chest heaving, pressing his body against the cool metal. He willed the image to go away.

_Not real._

_He’s never real._

_You’re Jim Kirk._

_…not Khan…_

Kirk cautiously cracked his right eye open, and immediately spied himself in the mirror, cowering against the far wall. He scrutinized the image intensely, committing his own likeness to memory so he could be certain that Khan’s visage would not replace his own again.

He held a hand over his chest in an attempt to still his stuttering breaths, all the while eyeing the reflection in the mirror. The comm beeped again.

_“Sir, their Captain is waiting.”_

Jim straightened his tunic and exited the restroom. He stopped briefly at his desk to turn off his viewer and strode onto the bridge of the _Enterprise._

“Sir, the ship’s Captain's name is Borgir. He says they suffered a catastrophic engine explosion yesterday afternoon and have been stranded. Their long-range communications have been damaged, leaving them with only the capability to send out short-range distress beacons.”

Kirk sat in his seat. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

_Keep it together._

As Jim motioned for Uhura to connect the hail, the headache that had been looming in the recesses of his brain all day once again began to surface. He winced slightly and squinted in the bright lights of the bridge. A sharp pain behind his left eye flashed into existence for a moment, then fizzled.

_Take a deep breath and get through this._

“Captain Borgir, I’m James Kirk, Captain of the _Enterprise_. I’ve been told you’re having some engine difficulties. I’d like to offer our assistance to get you up and running again.”

The man on the screen smiled thankfully. _“We would be forever in your debt for any services you could offer. We need a skilled technician or two to help rebuild our damaged engine. It’s small, so it shouldn’t be too difficult of a task. Our engineer passed on a few months back and we have not had the opportunity to take on another. So, we were at a disadvantage when this mishap occurred.”_

“I’m sorry to hear about your officer. Give us an hour or so to get a team together, and send a list of all the components and supplies you think you’ll need for the repairs—we’ll see what we can scrounge up.”

_“Thank you, Captain Kirk. Word of your generosity and kindness has reached all corners of the galaxy. It is an honor to be helped by you and your crew.”_

The pain came back just as Kirk was finishing the comm. He desperately tried to save face as a wave of nausea swept over him. The stinging behind his eye was growing ever more intense. Jim forced a smile.

“Don’t mention it, Captain. We’ll be contacting you as soon as we’re ready to come aboard. Is there anything you need in the meantime?” Kirk gripped the armrests of his chair tightly. The nauseous feeling was becoming more intense. He willed himself not to throw up.

_“I don’t believe so. We will be in touch, Captain.”_

As the image on the screen blinked away and was replaced by the normal forward view, Kirk began to see stars—and not just the ones on the viewer. Bright lights danced in front of his eyes, obscuring crew members and equipment. The crew finally began to take notice, as he slumped back into his chair and pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets in an attempt to relieve the anguish.

“Sir? Are you feeling ill?”

Never opening his eyes, Kirk sighed. “I…Mister Spock, you have the conn.” He stood and turned towards the turbolift.

Uhura’s concerned eyes followed him as he walked. “Captain, is there anything I can do?”

“No, Lieutenant. Just a bad headache. I’m going to try and sleep it off.”

Spock rose to take the Captain’s chair. “Do you require me to alert Doctor McCoy?”

“No. And don’t tell him I’m leaving early. He’d just worry.”

Spock raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “Very well, Captain. Though I must remind you that Vulcans cannot lie. If he were to enquire, I will be obligated to tell him of your whereabouts and why you left your shift before it was scheduled to end.”

“Sure, Spock.” The lift door whooshed open and he stepped inside. “Comm me if you need me.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

_The_ _warp core was hot and loud. Every surface he touched seared his fingertips. He struggled to climb the massive frame to the misaligned housing. His body screamed at him with each painful movement, threatening to give out on him at any moment._

_But he wouldn’t give up._

_He needed to save the crew._

_As he climbed the final few feet, a shadow loomed overhead, blocking out the bright lights of the central core. Kirk looked up to see Khan, towering over him, lifting his boot to smash down on his already weakening fingers._

_“Well, well, Captain. Trying to save what I’ve worked so hard to destroy?”_

_Jim fought to pull his weight up onto the platform. Instead of stomping his hands and sending him to certain death below, Khan watched silently, lowering his foot. He didn’t offer assistance, rather laughed sinisterly as Jim crawled onto the grating and collapsed, the radiation already eating away at his body._

_Kirk got on his knees and tried to brace himself on a part of the core housing to help him stand. He wobbled he stood, Khan staring him down with cold eyes._

_“Look at you. You’re weak, no good, and can’t even stand on your own two feet without swaying.”_

_Jim tried to stand up straight, but his body was growing weaker by the moment. He steadied himself and glared at Khan with steely determination._

_“Get off my ship.”_

_Khan laughed and grabbed him by the collar, lifting him high into the air, his feet dangling just inches from the damaged core. “Your ship? You’re mistaken, Captain. This ceased to be your ship the moment Christopher Pike took her away from you.” Khan squeezed Kirk’s throat._

_Jim wriggled in his mighty grip, trying to free himself from the growing pressure of Khan’s fingers digging into his neck. He tried to speak, but Khan just pressed his fingertips harder into his throat._

_“You will never be a hero, Captain Kirk. No one will remember you. You’re not worth it.”_

_Khan abruptly dropped him, Jim crashing to the floor clutching his swollen neck. He gasped for air, a hoarse barking cough escaping his mouth as his lungs greedily absorbed the oxygen they had been cruelly deprived of. He was on all fours, his equilibrium slow to come back as he tried to get his brain to come out of its haze. Jim groped around on the floor, trying to find something to hold onto as he attempted to stand again._

_He scanned the immediate area, looking past Khan’s boots to find…_

_‘A cane?’_

_He squinted at the silver tip resting on the floor. It swayed back and forth slightly as the wielder shifted their weight. Kirk looked back to the legs of whoever it was, expecting to find Khan’s black pants and boots. Instead, Jim was greeted with gray dress slacks and impeccably shined boots, very reminiscent of a Starfleet uniform._

_He turned his weak neck upwards, the lights behind the figure obscuring their face. Kirk could tell by the body shape that it was no longer Khan. The person was shorter and less built, leaning heavily to the left on the walking stick._

_“Admiral?”_

_A hand came out of the shadows, and Kirk shakily reached out to grasp it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. He was face to face with Christopher Pike. The older man offered a warm smile, but said nothing._

_They both stood there silently for a moment, Kirk relieved that he was no longer in the presence of Khan. He wanted Pike to say something—anything. Jim just wanted to hear his voice one more time._

_“Admiral, please say something.”_

_Pike just stared at him, blue eyes glistening with moisture. He had begun to cry. It seemed as though he was trying to speak, his mouth was opening and attempting to form words, but no sound emerged from his lips. It was obvious that the older man was distressed by inability to talk._

_Kirk looked at him with concern. He gently took the Admiral by the shoulders in an attempt to soothe him. He didn’t know what to say._

_Pike continued to try and speak, becoming more and more frustrated with every passing second. He huffed in annoyance and scowled. Jim just squeezed his shoulders harder; he didn’t know what else to do._

_Suddenly, Pike threw his head backwards and screamed in anguish. Blood began to stream from his nose and mouth, splattering on Kirk’s uniform as he coughed. He grabbed his head between his hands, the cane clattering to the ground. Kirk tried to steady the older man, but Pike shoved him away and recoiled as a blue light enveloped him._

_“Do you see, Kirk?” It was Khan’s voice, echoing like a phantom within the chamber. “You can’t save your ship, yourself or your mentor. No matter how hard you try, or how much of my blood pumps through your veins…you will never be the hero you so desperately want to be.”_

_Kirk looked on in horror as Pike’s body began to swell, his skin peeling off in huge strips. As the older man’s organs liquefied, a grotesque concoction of blood and tissues began erupting from his mouth. An unseen force lifted Pike off the ground and suspended him several feet above the terrified Captain._

_Khan’s voice continued to reverberate in Jim’s ears. “He is suffering because of you. You can choose to end his life now and put him out of his misery…or you can watch him die. Again.”_

_Kirk screwed his eyes shut, unable to look at Pike’s bloated body hanging in the air. Even with eyes closed, he could still hear the awful sound of flesh and bodily fluids splashing to the floor over the Admiral’s gurgling screams. The smell of decaying flesh was beginning to overtake Kirk’s senses._

_A phaser appeared in Jim’s hand, heavy and solid. His finger instinctively curled around the trigger. Pike continued to moan as he looked down at the weapon._

_‘All I have to do is pull the trigger. I can end his suffering.’_

_Pike began to thrash in the grips of whatever was holding him in the air. Blood cascaded from a giant hole that had appeared in his chest. Kirk could see the Admiral’s heart beating behind twisted and broken ribs. Pike looked at him with pleading eyes, and suddenly Kirk could hear his voice in his own head._

_“James…help me.”_

_He tightened his grip around the handle of the phaser, fingernails digging into the palm of his hand. He knew what he had to do, but didn’t want to face reality._

_“Shoot him, Captain.”_

_To save Pike, he would have to murder him._

_‘No. I…can’t”_

_Kirk collapsed to the floor, the phaser skittering away as it was cast aside. In an instant, all the pain he had felt while dying in the access corridor of the core came flooding back to him. He could feel his blood boiling in his veins and his throat was burning. Fluid filled his lungs, and his heart began to beat erratically._

_“You will both suffer because you are a coward, Captain.”_

_Superhuman hands closed in around Kirk’s face and began to squeeze. Kirk strained to lift his head and look his attacker in the eye. Khan stared down at him, sinister smirk on his face. Jim could see Pike’s convulsing body hovering behind him, bones becoming visible as he was stripped of his skin._

_“I’m…not a…coward…” Jim thrashed under Khan’s mighty hands, unable to wrench himself from the madman’s colossal grip. Kirk felt a warm liquid begin to dribble from his ears as the pressure increased, his eyesight clouding as his brain fought for what little oxygen was left in his bloodstream._

_“You will never be as great as your father, Kirk. You’re worthless…”_

_Khan gritted his bared teeth and pressed his fingers into the soft flesh of Kirk’s cheeks as he constricted his face._

_Jim’s vision went black to the sound of his own guttural screams…_

Kirk flailed in the blankets of his bed, sitting bolt upright with a throaty scream. He only had seconds to make it to the bathroom before he vomited. He held his head over the bowl of the commode, the cool porcelain chilling his fingers as he gripped the sides tightly. Another wave of queasiness washed over him and he emptied the remaining contents of his stomach in a massive heave.

After a long moment, when he was confident that he wasn’t going to throw up again, he sat back and rested his weary body against the other wall. He felt feverish; his entire body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He looked longingly at the shower stall, deciding that cold water could possibly alleviate the searing heat.

He stripped out of his sweat-soaked clothes and stepped under the freezing water. The icy liquid shocked him, goose bumps erupting on his sensitive flesh. He braced himself against the tiles, resting his forehead in the corner. He took a several deep cleansing breaths, the awful feeling left by the dream slowly beginning to slip away, spiraling down the drain with the used water.

_Not again…_

_This is getting out of control…_

_I can’t even sleep normally anymore…_

_I’m losing my mind…_

Jim stayed in the shower until the klaxon signaling excessive water usage blared, turning the spray off automatically seconds later. He stood there, naked and shivering for a long moment before stepping out and wrapping a towel around his waist.

He flipped on the small light above the mirror, relieved when his own face stared back at him.


	2. Chapter Two

Dissociation: Chapter Two

                “You’re damn lucky I had an emergency last night and couldn’t hunt you down!” McCoy was furious, and the hypo he had in his hand made Jim extra nervous.

“I had a headache and went back to my quarters to try and sleep it off. I slept through the afternoon and night and woke up this morning. It helped, though.” Kirk eyed him. He couldn’t tell if the doctor was buying his story. “I guess I was exhausted.”

McCoy raised an eyebrow, waving a small scanner over Jim’s temple. “What kind of headache? You having migraines again? And don’t lie to me.”

“Yes.” Kirk’s voice was soft.

_Oh no._

_He’s going to yell._

McCoy’s face turned bright red. “Dammit, you need to tell me about this shit!” His fingers gripped tightly around the medical device in his hand. “With Khan’s blood runnin’ through your system, everything is new for us! I need to know about any changes in your health, no matter how insignificant they may seem to you.”

“It was just a headache, Bones. I didn’t think it was that important.”

“Didn’t think it was that important? This is uncharted territory we’re in! How soon you forget that I almost lost my medical license for doin’ what I did! And one of the only reasons I was allowed to keep my commission is that I promised to keep detailed records of everything that happens to you as a result of the transfusion.” He pushed Jim back on the biobed and began to palpate his abdomen. “You need to help me out here, kid. This affects all of us, not just you.”

Kirk lay there silently as McCoy examined him, avoiding eye contact.

“This hurt?” Jim shook his head and McCoy continued pressing on the soft tissue of his stomach, centering on his spleen. “I don’t feel any more swelling on your spleen, looks like that finally resolved itself. You can sit up.”

“Can I put my shirt back on now? You keep this place freezing like a meat locker.” He rubbed his hands over his bare biceps.

“No, I need to run a cardio scan. Sit still for a minute.” The doctor held a small device over Kirk’s heart and activated it. Instantly, the biobed’s monitors lit up with a readout of Jim’s cardiac activity. McCoy scowled. “Your heart’s still beating harder than it needs to. Damn augment blood. I thought we had this under control with meds.”

Kirk sheepishly looked away from McCoy. He knew the wrath was coming. McCoy’s clenched hands and red ears were a dead giveaway.

“You’re not taking the meds, are you?”

“You’re pushing new drugs on me left and right, Bones! They make me feel awful.”

McCoy gritted his teeth, his hands shaking with anger. “The alternative is death!”

“You don’t know that.”

The doctor threw the scanner on the cart next to the biobed with such force it careened off and clattered on the floor. “You’re right, I don’t know. But I don’t wanna find out that I’m wrong too late down the road.” McCoy sat down on a swiveling stool next to the bed. “Listen to me, Jim. You need to come clean with me…about everything. Khan’s blood is unpredictable, and if you aren’t one-hundred-percent honest, you could be a walking time bomb.”

“I’ll take the meds, alright?”

McCoy sighed and handed Kirk his shirt. “It’s not just about the medication. You’re distant and unapproachable. I feel like I’m losing you all over again.”

Jim slipped the tunic over his head. “I know. I’m sorry; I’ve just been stressed lately.”

“Stressed, huh?” The doctor eyed him suspiciously. “Stress usually leads to panic attacks. You havin’ any?” He raised an eyebrow.

Kirk shook his head, his expression unyielding. “No, it’s been nice.”

_Can’t tell him..._

_…about any of the dozen I’ve had in the past couple months._

_He’ll try and give me more drugs._

_And they won’t work, they never do._

“Nice? I’m not fallin’ for that. I know you had one a few weeks back. I wasn’t going to say anything because I wrongly assumed that you’d come to me.”

Kirk scowled. “Who tattled? It was Spock, wasn’t it?”

_Which one does he know about?_

_The transporter?_

_The shuttle?_

_He can’t know about the ones in my quarters…can he?_

“Actually, it was Sulu. An’ don’t go gettin’ pissy with him. He was worried, Jim.” McCoy scooted closer on the stool. “What brought it on?”

_Which one did Sulu see?_

_Gotta think on the fly._

_Answer him, Jim._

Jim scratched his head absentmindedly. “It was stupid. The shuttle just felt claustrophobic for a second. I should have been able to control it.”

“It only _takes_ a second, Jim. And you can’t control them.” McCoy reached for his PADD. “I’m going to give you a prescription for an oral anti-anxiety medication. God knows you won’t let me administer it via hypo. This way, you can pop a pill if you need to and at least it’ll take the edge off.”

Kirk’s eyes were pleading. “No more drugs, Bones. I can handle this, really.”

“Too late, the script is written. I’ll bring ‘em by later.” He set the PADD down on the supply cart. “Now, since I’ve actually gotten you to get a little chatty, you want to let me in on what else is bothering you? You’re brain scan showed some concerning tendencies. The nightmares are back, aren’t they? You had one along with your migraine, didn’t you?”

Kirk exhaled deeply and he let his eyes wander to the floor. He licked his dry lips. “I was in the core…with Khan. It’s always the same dream, but this last time…”

“What changed?”

“Pike appeared. He couldn’t talk and he was frustrated because of it. Then all of a sudden…” Jim shuddered.

_Shit, I really don’t want to talk about this._

_It was horrible…_

“Go on, kid. It’ll do you good to get it out.”

Kirk wrung his hands together. “…he started screaming. He swelled up like a balloon and something lifted him into the air. That’s when…” Jim could feel a wave of heat flash over his face. He felt like he was going to be sick. “…his skin started to rot and fall off.”

“Jesus.”                                                                                       

“Tell me about it.” Kirk took a cleansing breath. “He begged me to help him. And Khan reappeared and told me to put him out of his misery. That’s when the phaser materialized in my hand.”

McCoy frowned, pausing before he asked the inevitable question. “Did you do it?”

“No.” Kirk’s voice was hushed. “I couldn’t. So Khan called me a coward and moved in to kill me like he did Marcus. That’s when I woke up.” He let out a shuddering breath.

_‘It’ll do you good,’ he says._

_I feel like I’m going to puke._

_Pike…_

“Helluva dream, huh?” Jim nodded. “Are you seeing any strange visions or optical phenomena coinciding with the nightmares?”

“They’re bad dreams, Bones. The whole thing is a strange vision.”

“When you’re awake, I mean.” The doctor tapped his thumbs together in his lap. “Sometimes terrible nightmares can manifest themselves in other states of mind. Namely as visions during the day. And that’s a serious sign we need to look out for. It can be an indication that something more than just nasty dreams is going on.”

_You think I’m going to tell you that I see Khan almost every time I look in the mirror?_

_That’ll get me an insanity diagnosis faster than anything._

_…and then they’ll take the Enterprise from me again._

“I only see him in my dreams, honest.”

The doctor sat quietly for a moment before he finally spoke. “Alright, but promise me you’ll tell me if the dreams get worse or you start experiencing what we talked about. It’s important.”

“Okay.”

“I’m glad you shared that with me, Jim. I know that must have been tough. But didn’t it feel better to know that you don’t have to suffer alone? Don’t hide from me—from your friends. We’re here to help.”

“It doesn’t matter, Bones. No matter what I do, I’ll still have nightmares.” He shook his head. “And don’t say you’ll give me any more meds.”

“Jim, let me help you.” McCoy gently placed his hand on Kirk’s knee. “We have a wonderful ship’s counselor. Sit with her— _talk to her._ You can’t keep this shit to yourself; it’ll eat you up like termites on a rotten peach tree stump.”

“Why can’t I just talk to you?”

“I’ve been barkin’ up that tree for a year. Every time I try and get you to open up, you shut me out. I’m a little shocked that you just told me about the dream.” He leaned in close and looked Kirk in the eyes. “Look, she’s neutral. Talk to her…for me?”

_If I agree will you leave me alone?_

_This blows._

Kirk finally relented with a huff. “Fine.”

“Thank you. I may be your CMO, but I’m also your best friend. I don’t like to see you hurting. And I sure as hell don’t want to see this problem take you down, especially not when we can do something about it.” He stood and grabbed Kirk’s shoulder. “No one said this recovery was going to be easy, kid. It’ll be a work in progress for a long time.   It’s not every day a man comes back from the dead, let alone agrees to go out into the black for five years so close after.”

“I know. And don’t think that I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done. I promise I’ll get this under control.”

“Good. 'Cause I’m sick of huntin’ your ass down for simple exams.”

Kirk chuckled. “But that’s half the fun, Bones. Can I go now?”

“In a minute, I need to take a few vials of blood.” He retrieved a small extractor.

Kirk grimaced as he rolled up his shirt sleeve. “I hate that thing. It hurts.”

“Don’t be such a baby. Getting kicked in the back by a pissed off donkey, now _that_ hurts.” He took gentle hold of Jim’s arm. The comm beeped just as he was about to draw the blood, causing Kirk to pull his arm back.

_“Sir, Captain Borgir would like to thank you before they get on their way.”_

Kirk pushed his sleeve down. “I’m on my way, Lieutenant. Sorry, Bones! Guess you’ll just have to wait to torture me!” He jumped down off of the biobed.

“It’ll just make it that much more enjoyable. Be back here before the day is out.”

Kirk walked out of Sick Bay.

Of course, he didn’t return.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“You know, _Captain,_ if you keep making chocolate cakes like this, I may never leave.” Carol Marcus’ eyes twinkled in the candlelight. She dipped the tip of her finger into the remaining ganache on her plate and licked it off with seduction in her eyes.

“That’s fine with me. You can do the dishes.” Kirk smiled mischievously.

Carol threw a cherry she had picked off her slice at him. Kirk immediately picked it up and popped it in his mouth, the stem reemerging several seconds later tied in a knot. Carol smirked and leaned in over the table, her breath causing the candle flames to dance on the air currents. Her voice was husky with lust.

“That’s a pretty impressive trick, Jim. What else can that tongue do?”

Kirk loved this sexy side of her. They had been able to keep their relationship strictly professional when on duty, nothing more than Captain and Science Officer. But when their respective shifts were over and they could be alone together, all bets were off. And Jim couldn’t get enough.

_Who says a Captain has to behave himself when off duty?_

_Not when I have such a beautiful woman willing to do anything…_

_…and I mean anything._

Kirk stood, grabbing one of her petite hands in his own. She blew out the candles as she rose and circled the table, grabbing the half-empty bottle of wine as she did so. She wrapped her arms around his neck, bottle gently thumping against his back, as he leaned in and kissed her.

“How would you like to find out?” He purred into her neck, sucking at a spot just behind her ear. Any hickey left over would be easy to cover with her hair. He pulled her closer, pressing himself into her thigh.

Carol bit his ear. “My, my. You’re frisky tonight. And apparently very ready for me.” She brushed her hand over the front of his pants, causing him to inhale sharply as he buried his face in her shoulder. He reached around her back with his free hand and grabbed both wine glasses, thankfully empty so they wouldn’t spill, and began to pull them both backwards towards the bedroom.

Taking just a moment to set the glasses and bottle down on the nightstand, the pair could barely control their most primal of instincts. Hands roamed and lips mashed together as they fell onto the mattress. They had no need for artificial light, as the brightness from a close-by moon illuminated the cabin with a low glow. Bright enough to see each other, yet dim enough to leave an air mystery.

One of Jim’s hands tickled up Carol’s thigh and under her dress, ghosting across the junction between her thighs. He growled seductively as he found she was without panties. “If I wouldn’t have known better, I would think you were expecting something tonight, _Lieutenant._ ” He brushed his fingertips over her, and a shudder coursed through her entire body.

Carol curled her fingers around the hem of his shirt, pushing it up to expose his toned abdomen. “Shirt off… _now_.”

Kirk pouted. “But then I’ll have to move my hand. And I don’t think you want that to happen just yet.” He rubbed his thumb over her and she gasped with pleasure.

“Be rewarded later for a present sacrifice.” She licked her lips and kissed him forcefully. “Lose the shirt.”

Jim obliged and sat up, pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor. Carol followed suit, allowing him to reach around and unzip her dress, removing it and leaving her naked in the low light of the cabin. She smiled and briefly covered her chest, feigning embarrassment.

“You’re beautiful, Carol.” He ran his hands down her arms, settling on her hips. They closed the gap between one another and kissed passionately for a long moment.

Carol finally broke for air and pushed Jim on his back. Straddling him, she reached for his belt buckle and began to undo the clasp. Jim laced his fingers behind his head and relaxed into the pillow, watching her every move.

_I love the way she looks in the moonlight._

_Just for me._

_This is going to be a good night._

_I swear to God if anyone comms me, I’ll flip my lid._

Kirk felt her hands on his hips, pushing his trousers down slowly. He allowed her to remove them along with his boxers. In an instant, they were both naked, forcing Carol to lean over and lay on his chest for body heat. This allowed him to hold her close, strong arms wrapping around her tiny body, pressing himself against her most intimate of areas.

Before they knew it, they had joined together, Jim relishing in Carol’s heat as she moved with him. He loved the way her weight felt on top of him as he craned his neck downwards to bury his face in her breasts, taking a moment to choose a nipple to cover with his mouth.

They danced together in the darkness, soft moans permeating through the otherwise silent cabin. Carol sat back, bracing herself with her hands on his chest. She threw her head back in the throes of passion, Jim watching as ecstasy took her expression. He watched her as she bit her lower lip and moaned, her movements and sounds stoking his own fire.

Kirk brought his hands up to knead her breasts, her skin erupting in tiny goose bumps at his touch. She opened her eyes and looked at him, pupils blown with lust. “You have magic hands, _Captain._ ” Jim felt Carol’s body begin to tense, the telltale sign of approaching climax. He timed his movements along with hers, striving for mutual release.

“Together, Carol. Please.” Jim’s voice was breathy and passionate. He knew he couldn’t hold out much longer.

She smiled in the moonlight, leaning down to kiss him, tongue battling with his own for dominance. She matched his speed, shudders ripping through both lovers moments later as Jim’s wish was granted. Carol collapsed down on his chest, breathing heavily in the aftermath of their lovemaking session.

Kirk held her tightly, inhaling the soft scent of her floral perfume. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and sighed contentedly. He could feel her heartbeat pounding in her chest, pressed against his own.

“Jim, that was incredible.” Her voice was muffled by the pillow next to Kirk’s head. She turned her face and gently kissed his ear, her breath tickling the sensitive skin of his cheek.

He said nothing, instead hugged her closer, wicking away the last of the remaining body heat radiating off of her. He could feel her begin to shiver, so he begrudgingly broke the connection between them, allowing her to roll onto her side. He sat up enough to grab the covers, and suddenly missing her warmth, he quickly laid back down, pulling the blankets up over them both. Carol curled up next to him, Jim’s strong arm wrapping around her as she exhaled deeply.

They lay there for a long moment in silence, listening to each other’s breathing steady as they recovered from their intense experience. Jim tangled his fingers in her blonde hair, while his other hand rested on his own abdomen, holding hers tightly.

 _I never want this_ _feeling to end._

_She makes me feel so happy._

_Nothing can get to me when she’s in my arms._

Carol yawned sleepily. “You’ve worn me out, Jim.”

“Usually it’s the man who falls asleep right after.” He kissed the top of her forehead with a chuckle. “Stay the night?”

“Of course.” She sighed deeply and turned her head at an awkward angle to kiss him once more before sleep took them both.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

_[Kill her.]_

_[Wrap your hands around her throat and squeeze.]_

Jim’s eyes shot open and he found himself hovering over his sleeping lover, his shaking hands millimeters from Carol’s throat. Rage boiled inside of him as he snarled in the darkness. He desperately wanted to feel the soft flesh of her neck under his fingers, her windpipe being crushed with incredible force. He allowed his hands to move closer, licking his lips in anticipation as he went in for the kill. He began to feel aroused at the prospect of watching her gasp for air, clawing at his hands as he constricted harder. He hoped her eyes would bulge.

She stirred slightly in her sleep, turning her head to the side, leaving her neck more exposed than ever. He could see her heartbeat thumping through the vein in her neck. Kirk thought about how thrilling it would be to slice it open, watching her lifeblood stain his light blue sheets.

He leaned close enough to inhale deeply near her face. She still smelled of perfume and sex. It excited him, and he couldn’t wait to snap her neck in two.

_What the fuck?_

_Oh my God!_

_Stop!_

He pushed himself away quickly, his breaths coming in short terrified gasps. He stared at his hands in disbelief. If he looked hard enough, he could imagine Carol’s blood staining them.

_Was I dreaming?_

_The voice…it was…_

_…mine._

His own voice had been sinister and threatening, and he felt as if he had been moments away from acting on the phantom command. Never in his life had he heard himself be so menacing.

Jim could feel the rage surfacing once again and knew he needed to get away.

Before he hurt her.

Thankfully, Carol lay sleeping, blissfully unaware of the danger that had threatened her life mere moments before. Jim carefully crawled out of bed, unsure of what to do. He didn’t trust himself to stay in the cabin with her, and that felt awful.

_I could have killed her._

_What’s happening to me?_

He quietly slipped on some clothes and left a note for Carol—citing some bridge business and not to worry—and headed for the ship’s gym. Oftentimes, after he had lived through a panic attack or felt emotionally out of control, working out helped him to recover. He didn’t want to admit it to anyone—and certainly not to McCoy—but ever since he had recovered from the transfusion, he would have episodes of manic energy. Sometimes it would be benign, manifesting itself in bursts of adrenaline lasting for days. He wouldn’t sleep during those times, and instead would immerse himself in books, files or any other activity that he desired. He didn’t mind those highly energetic moments, and enjoyed being able to get things done.

But there were also times where malicious, rageful feelings would seep into his brain. They didn’t happen very often, but when they did, it frightened him. He would be fine one moment, but in an instant be compelled to strike out. Sometimes it would be something minor, like the need to punch someone in the face for no reason, or feelings of intense anger for a simple mistake or mishap. Then there would be the moments where he wanted nothing more than to slit Spock’s throat, or put a phaser to Chekov’s head and pull the trigger.

Just for the hell of it.

To see Spock clutch at his neck, green blood pouring out from underneath his fingertips while he gasped. Or watching as the Ensign’s brain was seared from the inside by the phaser shot, nothing more than a puff of smoke emanating from the other side of his skull.

Those urges terrified him.

But not once had they been accompanied by a voice. Never had it been himself telling him to harm. That’s what sacred him the most. The thought of losing himself like that made him want to sit in an airlock and hit the release. He could never imagine hurting a member of his crew like that.

He never wanted to be like Khan.

Oftentimes he would think about the augment blood that had revived him, and the remnants that still coursed through his veins. Kirk knew that McCoy had done what he thought would give him the best fighting chance at the time, and he not once blamed the good doctor for any of his heath woes following the procedure. After all, if it wouldn’t have been for his best friend, he’d be dead and buried.

But, on nights where he couldn’t sleep because he was frenzied, or when he felt the urge to bash Uhura’s skull in with a club…he couldn’t help but think if he would have been better off dead. Then he wouldn’t be tempted to hurt the people he loved.

He knew damn well that if he ever went to McCoy with any of this, he’d try to medicate him. But worse yet—he’d be required to inform the brass at Starfleet. And Jim knew he’d lose his ship if they realized that their golden boy was having homicidal tendencies.

So, he kept it bottled up, and prayed that the feelings would subside little by little, and he could get on with his life.

Obviously, that wasn’t happening.

He poked his head out of his cabin door, thankful that the halls were deserted in the early hour. He still felt bubbling twinges of the manic waves deep within him, and he didn’t know if he could restrain himself if he were to run into anyone. Usually he had an escape route if he felt the tendencies—he would abruptly leave the bridge citing business he had to take care of, or be thankful that he was alone in his quarters.

He made it to the gym without confrontation from anyone and immediately went to the weights, grabbing two fifty-pounders and curling them in unison without even batting an eyelash. Every pump of his muscles brought him closer to getting rid of the fury that simmered in his veins—wrath that he could never let out in the presence of others.

As the fury melted away, dripping from his face as he strained, he told himself he was in control.

And when he left two hours later, he still believed it.


	3. Chapter Three

Dissociation: Chapter Three

**One Week Later**

                Kirk pushed himself harder than ever before.

Every lift of the weights over his body gave him release. Release from the demons that tormented him more and more each day. His muscles burned, begging him to stop. The amount of weight he was pressing into the air was incredible; at least two times what a man of his size should be able to lift safely.

_No rest for the wicked, Jim._

_Only good thing about Khan’s blood is this strength…_

The Captain had found himself in the gym several times this week, way more than usual. Every time it was after something had happened. And each time he had felt the surge.

Uncontrollable rage.

First it had been a strategical error. He and a small away team had beamed down to an uninhabited moon to collect flora samples for possible medical research. McCoy had been adamant that he didn’t need help, but Kirk insisted. They all split up, Kirk taking a young ensign under his wing to collect their share of the list.

Several minutes and a rock slide later, the Ensign had her leg crushed by falling boulders and nearly didn’t make it back to the _Enterprise_ with a pulse. Jim knew it had been an accident, that he had nothing to do with where she stepped, but he still felt responsible. And the fury with himself that followed—in private—threatened to undermine everything he had tried to work on since his last episode.

Back in his cabin, Kirk had felt the wrath with himself boil over, and he had thrown an antique vase—a gift from Uhura—against the wall. It was either the vase, or his hand through the glass shelves in the corner, and he was pretty sure McCoy would wring his neck if he showed up in Sick Bay bleeding like a stuck pig.

He didn’t even bother to pick up the shards, instead choosing to go to his makeshift sanctuary. He had made it to the gym without running into anyone and had pushed himself until the wee hours of the morning, all the rage dripping out of his pores until he felt dehydrated.

The next morning, he actually felt refreshed and went on with this day.

Within hours, he had snapped at Carol. A simple mistake in calculating torpedo payload weight. Easily corrected—and she had. But he still had said awful things to her.

The surge had returned.

_I called her a stupid bitch._

_Grabbed her by the arm so tight it left marks._

_She hurried away, trying to mask her tears._

_She was afraid._

That night, after their shifts had ended, Jim had made a peace offering of replicated flowers and loving apologies. He begged her to forgive him, citing stress as the catalyst for his deplorable behavior. On his knees in her cabin, Kirk had laid his head in her lap and pleaded with her to give him a chance to make up for what he had done.

Carol had sat quietly; her fingers curled in his short hair, letting him pour his apologies onto her skirt, tears wetting the fabric. And in the end, she had forgiven him as he vowed to never hurt her again. He stayed that night, making good on his promise to love her always.

In the morning—like all the times before—he had woken up feeling refreshed. Telling himself that today would be different and he wouldn’t let the rage swell.

The days plodded on, Jim never able to get more than a few moments of peace, usually in the arms of his lover. And even then, the pleasure was fleeting and didn’t offer the release that he craved. Migraines, boiling rage, dreams so bad he felt as if his chest were going to explode as he frightened himself awake—he was coming apart at the seams. He didn’t dare tell McCoy, even though the doctor had eyed him every time they were around each other.  

By the end of the week, he was sleeping so little he had actually dozed off on the bridge, threatened to demote a perfectly good young lieutenant for practically nothing and had almost threw McCoy over his shoulder when the doctor came up behind him.

The final straw had come this morning, when he had awoken with such unmitigated fear that it made him jolt out of bed and cower in the corner like a threatened animal while he shook. As his eyes had flitted around the room as he attempted to catch his breath, he had to convince himself that he wasn’t in the core, and that Khan was locked away.

The nightmare had been awful. Only fragments remained in his terrified brain.

_The core._

_McCoy dead at his feet, his boots slipping in the crimson blood pouring out of his CMO’s gaping chest wound._

_His own fingers slick with Leo’s blood from where he had pulled the man’s heart out with his bare hands._

Crouched in the corner of his cabin, Kirk could feel it. It was threatening to overtake him, his fingers curled so tightly into his palms that his nails were digging tiny crescents into the flesh. His vision tunneled, the edges of his reality beginning to turn black.

The surge was coming.

What had started as fear was now manifesting as a rage so deep it threatened to send Jim into an irrational rampage. He needed to squash it before it completely overtook him.

He glanced at the chronometer as he pulled a tank top on. Oh-three-fifty-eight. No one would be in the gym at this hour. He slipped on a pair of track pants and shoes and hurried out the door, feeling the heat from his oncoming mood swing begin to wash over him.

_Just make it to the workout room._

_You can lift the pain away._

_Push Khan out of your mind._

The gym on the _Enterprise_ felt hotter than usual. Within seconds, Jim had ditched his shirt and sweat began dripping down his back. He couldn’t tell if it was actually warmer in the room, or if it was the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Whatever it was, he knew there was only one remedy for the way he was feeling.

He piled over two hundred pounds of weights on the barbells and lay down beneath the frame. He began lifting the enormous weight over his head, his muscles begging him to cease. But there was no way he would listen.

Not until the rage stopped.

He felt himself float away, no longer aware that his arms were beginning to shake under the tremendous mass he held over his head. Over and over again he pushed, droplets of sweat dripping down from his forehead back into his hair, and coating his body in a thin sheen.

He lifted for a good hour, never once stopping to rest. No other man could have endured the brutal punishment Jim was unleashing on his body, but with Khan’s blood running through him, the Captain had no trouble continuing.

He would have gone on for hours, if something hadn’t moved out of the corner of his eye. A shadow, fleeting and sinister. He stopped lifting for a moment, holding the bar high above his head. He turned his head to find the source of the phantom. He laid there silent and unmoving for a second, watching the corner intently.

_I thought I was alone._

_There’s no one else here._

_He’s…not here…_

Kirk screwed his eyes shut and concentrated on not dropping the weights on his neck. He pushed the massive bar into the air, his body screaming at him to stop. He decided to give himself several seconds before opening his eyes again, to make sure he was truly alone.

When he finally cracked his lids, he was no longer in the gym.

He was on the _Vengeance._ Watching as his hands wrapped around Admiral Marcus’ face and squeezed.

“No! Stop it!”

Kirk gasped and released his grip on the weights, the barbell thankfully falling behind him and not across his throat. Jim scrambled off of the weight bench and knelt beside it, his palms pressed tight over his eyes.

_I’m on the Enterprise._

_Marcus is dead._

_Khan killed him, not me._

_I’m…not Khan!_

_[But he’s in you.]_

_Jesus, what’s happening?_

Jim turned to face the empty corner. He yelled at the air. “I’m not Khan!” He shook his head wildly, trying desperately to get the image of Marcus’ head imploding before his eyes out of his mind. “You can’t take my ship!”

_The Enterprise is mine!_

_Frank, stop!_

“Get away from Sam, you bastard!” Kirk clenched his fists, taking a swing into open air. “I’ll kill you if you touch him!”

_I didn’t kill anyone!_

_Starfleet is at fault!_

_[Maybe you should just put a phaser to your head.]_

The Captain pressed his hands over his ears, begging his mind to cease its irrational thoughts. “Get out of my mind!”

Kirk’s heart beat wildly in his chest and he could taste the bile that had risen in his throat. His hearing was muffled, the regular noise of the ship being drowned out by his own pulse thumping in his ears, and the voices in his head. He held his hands to his head as he began to feel faint. Standing on shaky legs, he attempted to shuffle towards the comm panel.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he needed help.

Kirk never made it. He fell to the floor in a quivering heap, the violent shaking of a seizure overtaking him before he even hit the ground.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“Jesus H. Christ, what the hell happened?”

McCoy immediately ran to the side of the hover-stretcher that bared an unresponsive and trembling Kirk. Sulu followed closely on the heels of the medical staff, nervously wringing his hands together.

“I got to the gym for my morning workout and found him on the floor.”

McCoy and the nurses transferred the Captain to a waiting biobed, the adjacent screen lighting up red, alarms blaring. Kirk shook under McCoy’s steady grip, the doctor trying to soothe the seizing man as best he could. With a free hand, he pried open one of Kirk’s eyes and scowled as he waved a small light into it.

“Dammit, his pupil is blown. Get me a hypo of Lorazepam right now! We’ve got to stop this seizure.” He turned his attention to the Helmsman. “Tell me more, Sulu. I need to know everything, no matter how inconsequential it might seem to you.”

Sulu approached the biobed, concern crossing his face. “He was shaking on the floor. There was a barbell overloaded with weights on the ground near the bench. I think he might have over-exerted himself.”

“This isn’t a case of working too hard. That doesn’t cause seizures and unconsciousness.” A nurse delivered a dose of medication into Kirk’s system and his body began to relax, the tremors stopping seconds later. McCoy let out a sigh of relief and gently laid a palm on Kirk’s sweaty forehead. “Nurse T’lara, log that the seizure stopped at oh-five-twenty-nine. Start an IV drip of electrolytes and saline, we need to get him re-hydrated.”

McCoy held two fingertips to the large vein in Jim’s neck, feeling the erratic pulse underneath. “Let’s get a total blood workup, a brain scan and place a cardio monitor. His heart’s really working, and I want to know why.” He turned to a waiting nurse. “Contact Lieutenant Uhura and ask her to find the security feed from the gym. Maybe I can figure out what the hell happened to him from that.”

Jim began to stir on the biobed, groaning as he eyes fluttered open. McCoy laid a hand on his shoulder, pressing down slightly as Kirk tried to sit up. “Don’t try and get up, Jim. I need you to stay down for a bit.”

Without any warning, Kirk’s arm immediately shot into the air and struck McCoy across the face. Jim sat up in a flurry, his eyes seething with anger, lips snarling. He lunged at the doctor as he leapt off the biobed.  Before anyone could react, Jim had his fingers wrapped tightly around McCoy’s throat. “I’ll kill you, you bastard!”

M’Benga immediately ran to his CMO’s side, trying to wrench Kirk’s hands from McCoy’s neck. The nurses and Sulu watched in horror as Kirk squeezed harder, McCoy’s eyes bulging as struggled to get out of Kirk’s grip.

“Ji…st-stop!” McCoy could barely manage to speak as his throat was constricted. He clawed at Jim’s fingers to no avail.

Sulu jumped in and grabbed onto M’Benga’s shoulders, pulling with all his strength in an attempt to get the Captain away from the doctor. M’Benga screamed to an awaiting nurse. “Get a hypo of Sonambutril, eight milligrams. Stat!” Both men strained against the herculean strength of their enraged Captain.

A nurse ran into the fray and slammed the hypospray into Kirk’s neck. Within seconds, his hands went slack and he fell to the ground in an unconscious heap. McCoy doubled over and grabbed his throat, wheezing and coughing as he tried to fill his lungs with as much air as possible. “What the hell…was that?”

M’Benga knelt beside Kirk, waving a scanner over him. “His brain activity is all over the place, blood pressure’s through the roof. Heart rate is dangerously high, but coming down—thanks to the sedative.”

McCoy rubbed his throat, red finger marks bright on his skin. “His strength was superhuman. It was like he was insane.” He looked down at Kirk, sadness in his eyes.

_Jesus, Jim._

_What’s happening to you?_

“Get him onto the biobed and restrain him. Tight.” McCoy watched as M’Benga and Sulu lifted Jim’s limp body in the air. As soon as he was situated, a nurse placed soft cuffs on each of his wrists and ankles. “We can’t risk him going nuts on us again until we figure out what the hell is going on.”

The two doctors watched the readouts intently. Both scowled as the abnormalities piled up. M’Benga rubbed his chin. “Len, this isn’t normal. I mean, look at his brain waves. He’s got enough sedatives in him to take down a Gorn and it’s like they’re just barely keeping his mind at bay.”

“I see it. I wish I didn’t, but I do.” McCoy sighed and shook his head. “His blood oxygen saturation is terrible. Let’s get some Tri-ox on board and see if it helps.”

A nurse handed him a hypo and he gently administered the medication, watching the bio-screen for any change. Seconds later, the readout went back into the green. McCoy sighed with relief. “Well, that’s one small win. Now we just have to figure out why he went mental. Get those blood cultures and a full body scan…now.”

The nurses busied themselves with drawing blood and monitoring Kirk. M’Benga and McCoy stepped back for a moment to talk.

“Len, you want to let me in on anything? Because now would be a good time. I saw the look on your face. I don’t think this was a surprise.”

McCoy scrubbed his hand over his face wearily. His neck still throbbed. He looked back at Jim for just a moment before answering. “Let’s go in my office.”

M’Benga followed him into the small room. McCoy closed the door and reluctantly confided in his friend. “Jim’s been having nightmares. Mostly about Khan and the core. I finally got it out of him last week that he has been suffering from migraines again. I think the dreams and headaches are connected.”

“But what does that have to do with him passing out and attacking you today? He could have killed you.”

McCoy flopped down into the chair behind his desk. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out, dammit!”

M’Benga took a seat across from him. “Look, Doc. I know the Captain’s your best friend and that you want to protect him. But I’m really concerned, and not just for him.” He leaned forward to look McCoy directly in the eyes. “Who’s to say he won’t fly off the handle like that again? You’re lucky we were here to rescue you this time. What if he does it again? Or hurts Doctor Marcus?”

“I just need more time, Geoff. Hopefully the blood tests will reveal something. I just hope…” He trailed off with a deep sigh, and let his shoulders sag.

“You’re worried it’s Khan’s blood.”

“What did I do to him?” His voice was quiet. “He didn’t ask for this.”

“You saved him. Don’t you dare beat yourself up for it.”

McCoy shook his head, defeated. “I know that. But sometimes I think back to his awful recovery after that transfusion, the months he spent just trying to get strong enough to walk again, the pain he was in while his body rebuilt itself…” He closed his eyes, the image of Jim in the body bag flashing into existence. “…I don’t want him to hate me for it.”

“You two need to talk about this, Len. I can tell that you haven’t.” M’Benga stood and straightened his uniform top. “I’m going to go check on him. Just hang out here for a while and regroup.”

McCoy silently watched him head for the door. He didn’t have the energy to fight back. He knew Jim was in very capable hands.

“And Len?” M’Benga smiled warmly. “He doesn’t hate you. You brought him back from the brink. I can’t think of another man who can say that his best friend actually snatched him from the reaper. Promise me you’ll talk to him.”

“Sure, Geoff.” He turned his computer monitor on. “Keep me updated. I’m going to do a little research. I need to figure this out.”

The other doctor acknowledged with nod and left to care for the Captain.

McCoy blew out a long breath and began typing.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“Doctor, why is the Captain restrained?”

McCoy looked up from his PADD. Spock stood stoically, hands clasped firmly behind his back. They both stood on either side of the biobed containing Kirk.

“He attacked me.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Attacked you? I was under the impression that he was brought to Sick Bay because he collapsed in the gymnasium.”

“He did.” The doctor set his PADD down and adjusted the flow on the intravenous drip in Jim’s arm. “Then he came to and lunged for me. Damn near killed me, too.” He unconsciously rubbed his throat.

“Why was I not informed sooner? If I had known that the Captain was acting in such a manner, I would not have waited to check on his status in person.”

“I didn’t have anything to report. I knew you’d want answers and I just don’t have them yet.” McCoy hated feeling this defeated.

Spock was about to speak when a nurse interrupted them. “Doctor, Lieutenant Uhura has the requested video feed for you.”

“Tell her to send it to my office.” He re-adjusted the cuff on Jim’s wrist. “C’mon, dammit. Let’s go see if we can’t figure out what the hell is happening to him.”

Spock said nothing as he followed the doctor into his office. Both men stood in front of the wall screen and waited for the video signal.

The screen flickered to life, a paused image of Jim as he walked into the gym. McCoy started the playback with a touch of his finger. They watched as Kirk entered the room and removed his shirt, then pushed weights on the barbells. He began to lift, both viewers marveling at just how much mass he was able to boost above his head. This went on for several minutes, with McCoy intermittently fast-forwarding the video.

He stopped when the time-stamp indicated that more than an hour had passed. Something had caught both their eyes. The doctor rewound a few seconds and they watched again as Kirk’s attention went from his lifting to the corner.

“What the hell’s he looking at?”

Spock moved in closer to inspect the screen. “Unclear, Doctor. There is nothing—and no one—in the room with him.”

“Whatever it is, it spooked him.” McCoy immediately thought back to the conversation he had with Jim nearly a week ago. He had asked him if he was having visions, especially when he was awake. Not dreams. Jim had assured him that he wasn’t.

Now Leonard wasn’t so sure he had been telling the truth.

They watched as Kirk resumed his workout, only to stop again moments later.

_“No! Stop it!”_

He frantically tumbled off of the weight bench, the barbell dropping behind the apparatus. Holding his hands over his eyes, Jim trembled.

“He is afraid of something, Doctor.”

“You think?” He rolled his eyes in Spock’s direction. The Vulcan was unfazed.

_“I’m not Khan!”_ Jim screamed at the corner, even though he was obviously alone. He visibly shook. _“You can’t take my ship!”_

They watched as Jim yelled about his brother, taking punches at open air. He was becoming hysterical. He moved erratically around the room, stumbling over his own feet as he tried to get away from whatever demons were tormenting him.

McCoy’s heart broke for his friend. Jim had been in an emotional spiral and he hadn’t been there to help him through it. Spock stood next to him, silent. Even though the Vulcan hadn’t said anything, the doctor could just imagine what was going through his head watching his Captain act irrationally.

He would want to remove him from command.

_“Get out of my mind!”_

Jim staggered towards the comm panel, collapsing in a seizure as he reached for it. The video playback ended, the image of a seizing Kirk replaced by the _Enterprise’s_ general screen image.

McCoy whispered reverently. “What the hell’s happening to him?”

“It appears that the Captain was hallucinating.”

“No shit, Spock.” McCoy crossed his arms over his chest.

The First Officer wasn’t surprised by the doctor’s retort. “It is concerning that the Captain was not in control of himself. I believe it would be wise to relieve him of duty until you can medically clear him. The ship’s safety, along with that of the crew, could be in jeopardy if he were to lash out again.”

McCoy felt his face turn red with anger. “Listen to me, pointy-ears! I’m not letting you yank Jim from his commission until I get some definitive answers. He might just have a virus or something that’s causing this to happen. Don’t get all high and mighty and act hastily.”

“Vulcans are incapable of becoming ‘high and mighty’, Doctor. I am merely expressing apprehension as to the nature of the Captain’s condition. It would be illogical to assume that he will not act this way again when we do not have definitive answers as to what is causing his behavior.” He stared McCoy down. “Furthermore, it would be careless of me as First Officer not to think ahead to the future when the situation may arise that Captain Kirk would need to be removed from duty. Have you forgotten that he nearly choked you to death hours ago?”

_Damn you, ya hobgoblin!_

_Don’t you think I know how serious this is?_

“Of course I haven’t forgotten! Just…give me two hours before you ruin his life, alright?” He stormed off and back into Sick Bay in search of Jim’s blood test results, leaving Spock alone in his office.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“Take a look at this, Geoff.”

McCoy and M’Benga huddled in to look at the screen of Leonard’s PADD. Jim’s blood test results had come back, and they confused both doctors.

“What’s with that enzyme? I’ve never seen that in blood before.” M’Benga’s face contorted in confusion.

“Me neither. It’s something that shouldn’t be there, that’s for sure.” McCoy sighed deeply, rubbing his chin in thought. “It might be to blame for his outburst, though. Look here.” He brought up Kirk’s brain scan on the screen. “That shit’s not flowing through his brain vessels as quick as the other blood cells. It’s staying longer before moving on.”

M’Benga agreed. “You think it’s latching on to the cells there and causing his psychoses?”

“I’d bet my family’s plantation on it.” He furrowed his brows. “Now we just have to figure out why it never showed up before in any tests. It makes me nervous to think that over a year out, that madman’s blood is still doing new things to Jim.”

“I think I could synthesize a temporary serum to counteract the effects. Until we can find something more concrete, that is.” M’Benga offered a hopeful smile.

“Get to work, Geoff. I don’t want to wake him up and be in the same situation we were earlier. If we’re gonna let him come to, he needs to be sane and lucid.” McCoy rubbed his throat with a frown.

M’Benga went off to work on his medication, and McCoy continued to stand in his office, staring at Kirk’s vital signs dancing on the screen in front of him.

_We’re gonna fix this, Jim._

_I’m not going to let Starfleet take your girl from you, I promise._

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“Push the meds, M’Benga. Let’s see what happens.”

A few hours later, the two doctors, flanked by Spock and a nurse, administered the new serum into Kirk’s body. No one really knew what effect—if any—the drug would have, but they had to try.

They all looked at the screen keenly, watching as the body scanner continuously ran up and down Kirk’s length. The results were almost instant. Within seconds, the enzyme that had been attaching itself to Jim’s brain cells began to dissipate.

“Well I’ll be damned, M’Benga. You did it.” McCoy slapped him on the back.

“I wouldn’t be so sure it will keep working yet, Len. All my research—albeit quick—points to this being a short-term fix. We’re going to have to come up with something better as soon as possible.” He frowned slightly. “This stuff isn’t without risks. I anticipate some of the side effects being…unpleasant.”

“Like how?” McCoy was concerned.

“If he’s on the cocktail too long, say, more than four weeks…it may begin to affect his neural functions. We could start to see seizures and loss of motor functions. After all, it’s blocking receptors in his brain. I don’t know for sure how long-term exposure will fair with him.”

It was a risk McCoy was willing to take. He had to figure out what was going on with Kirk and fix it. He felt he owed it to his friend to make sure that augment blood he put in him wasn’t harming him. And right now it most definitely was.

“We’ll get this sorted out before then, I’m confident. Let’s wake him up.”

A nurse pressed a hypo into Jim’s neck and within seconds his eyes were beginning to flutter open. He immediately began to strain against the cuffs on his wrists and ankles. His heart rate began to rise, along with his blood pressure. McCoy laid a soothing hand on Kirk’s shoulder.

“Easy, kid.”

Jim furrowed his brows, eyes closing in defeat. “Why’re my arms tied down?”

McCoy, M’Benga and Spock exchanged glances. M’Benga finally answered him. “You collapsed in the gym, Sir. Mister Sulu found you seizing and brought you to the medbay. You…attacked Doctor McCoy.”

Jim’s eyes bulged in horror. “I what?” He shook his head in surprise, then looked to McCoy. “Bones…did I really?”

“’Fraid so, Jim. But we think we might know why.”

Kirk closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. He laid there silently for a long moment. “Can you untie me?”

McCoy quickly brought up the most recent brain scan results on the biobed’s screen. All results were showing that the enzyme had been controlled. He felt it was safe to let Kirk out. “Yeah. You’ve got medication on board that’s helping.” He carefully undid one cuff, while M’Benga removed the other. The nurse at the end of the bed detached the ankle restraints.

Kirk immediately rubbed his wrists. McCoy raised the head of the bed, allowing for the Captain to sit up. “Did I really hit you?”

“Not so much hit as tried to strangle me with your bare hands.” McCoy rubbed his throat. “You were pretty out of it.”

Kirk was appalled. “I can’t believe…”

“Don’t fret about it. We’re going to get to the bottom of this. But you need to be totally honest with me from now on.”

Spock cleared his throat. “I will leave you two gentlemen to discuss the Captain’s test results.”

Kirk grabbed for his arm. “Stay, Spock. This concerns you too. You’re my First Officer; you have more of a right than anyone on this ship…” He looked to McCoy. “…present company included, to know what’s going on with me.”

“Very well, Captain. If you insist.”

M’Benga motioned for the nurse to follow him out of the isolation pod the Captain was resting in, leaving the three officers alone.

“So what _do_ you remember, Jim?”

Kirk scowled as he tried to bring the memories back. “I…”

“Don’t lie to me, Jim. I need to know absolutely everything.”

Jim chewed on his lower lip before quietly offering his response. “I was manic, okay?”

“Manic? Like how?” McCoy watched as Jim’s vitals spiked.

Kirk clasped his hands in his lap, nervously tapping his fingers together. “Sometimes I get these bursts of energy. Most of the time they’re harmless, and I just go to the gym and work out until it goes away.”

“Most of the time? What happens when they’re _not_ harmless?”

Jim looked away as he spoke. “I hide.”

Spock chimed in. “Why do you feel the need to remove yourself from public during these times?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt anyone.” He sighed and shook his head. “You don’t know what it’s like! It’s like something inside of me is telling me to kill my yeoman, or blow the ship up or…”

“Jesus, Jim! Why didn’t you tell me before? How long has this been going on?”

Kirk licked his lips and carefully thought on his answer. “I don’t know…six months?”

McCoy fumed. “And you thought keeping that from me was beneficial how?”

“I didn’t want to worry you, alright? I thought I could deal with it. It was my problem, not anyone else’s.”

“I knew I should have hog-tied you and dragged your ass in for those blood tests ages ago.” He gripped his PADD tightly, trying not to physically lash out at the man in front of him. “This is no joke, Jim. These types of psychological phenomena can lead to serious and permanent damage to your brain if not dealt with.”

“Captain, I believe in light of these new circumstances, it would be beneficial for all parties if you were to relinquish command. Until we can find a cause and cure for your ailment, of course.”

McCoy stepped in. “Now wait just a damn minute! You can’t just go takin’ his chair away. We’ve got the situation under control with the new drug for right now.”

“But we cannot be certain the effects will be long-lived. Doctor M’Benga was concerned with the longevity of the medication.”

McCoy was livid. “That’s still not a good enough reason take his commission away!” He turned his attention to Jim, the Captain obviously distressed. His eyes were worried. “Listen to me, Jim. I’m not going to allow this. I have the final say when it comes to medical issues.”

Kirk exhaled deeply. “Maybe he’s right, Bones. What if I hurt someone else?”

“It’s not going to happen. M’Benga’s drug is working—and will continue to work until we can find a more permanent treatment.” The biobed’s screen began to light up red, indicating that both Kirk’s heart rate and blood pressure were greatly elevated. The doctor motioned to Spock. “Get out of here, wouldja? You’re stressing the both of us out.”

“If you feel my leaving would benefit the Captain’s recovery, than I shall go. Keep in mind that we will need to finish this conversation at a later date, however.” Spock nodded to Kirk. “I shall return after my shift to check on your progress.”

The Vulcan left, leaving Kirk and McCoy alone for the first time that day. Jim hung his head. “We both know he’s right. Nothing you can say and no amount of drugs is going to hide the fact that I almost killed you with my bare hands this morning.”

“ _Almost,_ Jim.” McCoy pulled a rolling stool up and sat next to Kirk’s bed. “M’Benga and I are going to figure this out. I’m not going to feed you to the wolves.”

Kirk swallowed hard. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about the episodes. My pride took over and…”

“…you didn’t want to worry me, right?”

Kirk nodded. “It was stupid, I see that now.”

“Look, no more lies. We can’t afford to slip up…either of us. Or we both know what’s going to happen.”

“Spock’s going to be watching me like a hawk, isn’t he?” Kirk tried to smile.

“Him and me both, kid.” McCoy looked at his chronometer. “I gotta go do my rounds. I’ll be back in a while and we’ll talk about springin’ you, alright?”

Kirk leaned back onto the pillows and closed his eyes. “Sure, Bones.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

The door chimed, and Kirk jumped.

He had been overly jittery since McCoy had released him from Sick Bay several hours back. He was worried that with every second that passed, M’Benga’s wonder drug would get weaker and Khan would be back in his brain. He placed his book on the coffee table and went to open the door. It slid open, producing McCoy, toting a bottle of scotch.

“Thought I’d help you drink away your sorrows.”

Jim smiled weakly. “You’re contributing to my delinquency, you know.” He ushered him in.

McCoy sat on the couch while Jim retrieved two small glass tumblers from his miniscule kitchenette. He plopped down next to his friend and Leonard cracked the seal on the bottle.

“I was savin’ this for a special occasion.” He poured the amber liquid into each glass. Raising his own, and Jim following, and they clinked the glasses together.

“I don’t see how me losing my mind is a special occasion.” Kirk took a long sip, swirling the alcohol around in his mouth. McCoy did the same.

“Hey, this stuff’s not bad. It’s no Kentucky Bourbon, that’s for sure. But, not bad.” He sat back against the couch cushions. “I figured I’d come by and we could talk.”

Kirk eyed him suspiciously. “Talk about what? My mental state? ‘Cause that’s something I’d rather forget about at the moment.”

“Actually…” McCoy hesitated, fidgeting with his glass. “…we never really talked about the transfusion.”

“Sure we did. You talked about it all the time when I was in the hospital.” Kirk drained his glass and poured himself another shot.

McCoy shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. We’ve never _really_ talked about it. I want you to know that I…did it out of desperation. There was no way I was going to lose you that day.”

Kirk was silent for a moment, swirling his drink in the tumbler. He sighed as he replied. “I don’t hate you, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“I put you through hell, Jim. And that hell’s still burnin’ strong.” He set his glass down to refill it. “I feel guilty.”

“Why? You saved my life.”

“But look what’s happening. You’ve never fully recovered.” He downed the shot in one gulp, immediately filling his glass again. “That shit’s poisoning you from the inside.”

Kirk wasn’t going to listen to his friend beat himself up. He steeled his expression. “’That shit’ is the reason that I’m alive today. All the pain I endured, it was all worth it. Don’t think for one minute that I blame you for any of this.”

“But you should. You didn’t ask for this.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. You know why?” Jim smiled mischievously. “Because I was dead.”

“Don’t remind me.” Leonard sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “That was the worst day of my life, Jim.”

“But you did the impossible that day. That’s a pretty big accomplishment.”

McCoy poured himself another shot. “Yeah, but at what cost? If I would have known then what I know now…”

“You still would have done it.”

“You’re right. Still…” This time he savored the scotch, sipping slowly. “…part of me still wants to you hate me, even just a little, for making you suffer.”

Kirk snorted. “Fine, you want me to hate you ‘just a little?’ You got it. My urethra hates you for the catheter I had to have in the hospital.”

“C’mon, Jim. I mean it.”

“I do too, that thing really hurt. Especially when you yanked it out.” Kirk cupped his hand over his groin. “Just thinking about it brings back all kinds of awful memories.”

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

Kirk’s smile waned. “It’s a defense mechanism.” His eyes lowered to the table, and he picked at the edge of the glass. “I really am sorry about this morning.”

“I know, kid. You weren’t in control. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

Jim sighed and continued to fidget. “You’re going to fix this too, right?”

“There’s no way I’d let them take the _Enterprise_ from you, Jim. I’m going to work around the clock until we figure out why Khan’s blood is reacting the way it is.” He laid a comforting hand on Jim’s, forcibly stopping him from tapping the glass tabletop. “The minute I injected that serum into you, I took us both down this path. We’re in this together.”

Jim just nodded in silence and sat back against the couch, glass in hand. Both men drank quietly, staring out into the blackness of space.

 


	4. Chapter Four

**_Author’s note: I usually don’t put notes in the beginning of the chapter, but I felt I needed to for this one. This chapter contains a graphic depiction of sexual assault. I wanted to warn anyone beforehand that might be triggered by it. --B_ **

Dissociation: Chapter Four

**Two Weeks Later**

McCoy scowled at Jim’s latest blood test results. Staring back at him were red numbers where there should have been green. The enzyme was returning, and at a startlingly fast pace. M’Benga’s serum—which they thought would at least get Jim through the next month—was failing quickly. Leonard shook his head in defeat as he slumped back in his chair.

He knew it had been too good to be true.

Now, he was faced with the task of what to do. Surely, Kirk would be feeling some adverse effects again. The problem was getting him to admit it. Sure, the kid had promised him that he would be more open about his health woes—but that was weeks ago. And McCoy knew Jim well enough to know that even though he had given his word, it may have only been to satiate the crabby doctor for a moment so he wouldn’t wield any more hypos.

“Dammit, Jim. What the hell am I going to do with you?”

The small cactus on his desk didn’t answer.

“Well, screw you, ya damn prickly son of a bitch.” He flicked a dry needle from the plant.

With a heavy sigh, he brought up Starfleet’s search engine and began probing records again. Some of the files he had looked at twenty or thirty times, but he kept at it, hoping that there would be something—somewhere—that he had missed. After the Eugenics War, almost all records of anything even remotely to do with the Augments was destroyed. It seemed that no one wanted to keep accounts in case history started to repeat itself. ‘ _How stupid’_ , Len had thought. All that remained were fragments here and there. Some information had been stored in private collections or museum archives, and Leonard had all but bent over backwards to try and get access to it. And when he finally did, he was greatly disappointed.

There had been nothing useful.

But he couldn’t stop looking. Not now. Not when Jim’s life hung in the balance once more.

_There just has to be something that I overlooked._

_Someone has to have some kind of clue for me._

_Something I can work with._

He typed in his query and waited for the results to come back. He tapped his fingers on his desk as the computer worked. This time, he tried looking up Khan himself, even though he knew his attempt would be futile. Every search yielded the same annoying message: no records found. Starfleet and Admiral Marcus had seen to it that all record of the man had been blasted into smithereens.

He sat for a good two hours, poring over every little detail that had been seen by his weary eyes more than they should have been. And—like always—he came up empty.

Disenchanted by his research woes, he decided to switch tactics and call Jim to his office. He needed to know if the kid was having any symptoms of his manic energy returning. He commed the bridge and was pleasantly surprised when Kirk agreed to be there in five minutes.

In less time than promised, Jim sauntered into McCoy’s office. He sat on the corner of the desk with an exuberant sigh.

“So, what’s up, Bones?” His smile was broad and genuine.

“You got down here awful fast. Spock’s ears freaking you out or somethin’?”

Kirk chuckled. “My ass was starting to hurt. I hate that new chair.” He picked up a photo frame from the desktop and smiled at the image. “Man, Joanna’s getting big. I can’t believe she’s going to be twelve in a few months.”

McCoy extended his hand and Jim gently placed the photo in his palm. The doctor stared at it for a moment before replacing it on the desk. “Tell me about it. Makes me feel like an old man.”

“You are an old man.”

“Shut up, dammit.” He motioned to the chair in front of the desk. “And get your butt off of my desk. I stack papers there, you know.”

Kirk scoffed and took a proper seat. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”

McCoy sighed. He really didn’t want to have this conversation today. “How have you been feeing lately? Anything you want to tell me?”

“Nope. I feel fantastic.” Kirk thought for a moment. “Well…I guess there is one thing. I think Ensign Rhodes has the hots for you. She gets all sparkly in the eyes when she looks your way.”

“For God’s sakes, Jim, I’m being serious here! Quit messin’ around. How are you feeling?”

Kirk leaned in over the edge of the desk. “I’ve never felt better, Bones. Honest.”

“You been taking your meds? It’s important for you to take the drugs so the serum will keep working.”

_Please just let him be forgetting to take them._

_Then I can yell for a minute and make it better._

“Every day. I promise.” Kirk held his hand over his heart.

McCoy exhaled deeply and let his shoulders sag. His voice was quiet. “That’s what I was afraid of.” He reached across the desk and turned his monitor screen around, pointing at the red numbers next to Jim’s name.

Kirk sat silently for a long moment staring at the data. He finally responded with a melancholy tone. “They enzyme is coming back, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. I’m sorry, Jim.”

“Don’t be sorry, Bones. You and M’Benga tried.”

McCoy shook his head and looked down at his lap. He couldn’t even face Jim. “And where did it get us?

“Hey, I’ve had a great two weeks. I mean, no outbursts, not one nightmare. I’ve actually been sleeping through the night for the first time since this shit’s started.” He offered a warm smile. “It’s been nice, Bones. And I owe it all to you two.”

“Yeah, and now it’s gonna be ending and we’re no closer to findin’ you a cure,” McCoy huffed. “Listen, are you sure you’re not having any manic episodes? You need to be honest with me.”

“Nothing, I swear.”

“Well, maybe since the therapy’s been in your system for a while, the enzyme won’t be as bad this time around.” McCoy blew out a long breath as he thought out loud. “Or I could be grasping at straws and the shit’s gonna hit the fan in a spectacular way.”

“Look, I promise that I’ll tell you if I get crazy again, alright?” Jim raised his eyebrows hopefully. “But I know I won’t. I feel too good for things to go south. I have faith in you and M’Benga. You’re going to figure this out.”

“Don’t put too much energy into that faith, kid.” McCoy screwed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why don’t you go back to work, huh? I need to figure this goddamn conundrum out before it bites us in the ass again.”

Jim laughed. “That was a big word, Bones. I’m impressed.”

“Just get the hell out of here, you jerk.” He watched as Kirk made his way to the door. “And Jim? The minute you feel like hell…”

“You’ll be the first to know.”

McCoy just nodded with a grunt and watched Kirk leave. He prayed the young Captain was telling the truth. He grabbed his coffee cup, scowling at the hours-cold swill at the bottom. He stood and cracked his back as he made his way to the replicator. He was going to need some strong coffee—he planned to be up all night.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

**Three Days Later**

He could feel it.

The awful surging energy creeping up on him, slowly replacing the calmness that he had come to cherish so very much. Kirk had tried to tell himself that it was all in his head.

_It’s not resurfacing._

_M’Benga’s wonder drug is still working._

It was hard to listen to yourself when you doubted what you were saying. Jim tried as hard as he could to ignore the sinister feelings creeping ever faster through his body. Only a day after the first symptom had come over him—the urge to push an Ensign off of a catwalk in Engineering—the craving for violence had exploded tenfold. It was happening with greater frequency, and the episodes were closer together than ever before. He couldn’t even walk down the halls without wanting to pull out a phaser and gun down passing crewmembers. His nights were plagued with horrific nightmares, jolting him from a restless sleep with such intensity that he often tumbled out of bed in a tangle of limbs and blankets.

He wasn’t eating right; sleep was a foreign concept to him once again. The only saving grace was his relationship with Doctor Marcus. Every time they were together, whether it be for a sexual encounter or just enjoying each other’s company, he felt safe. He looked forward to his time with her, wishing that he could spend every waking moment in her presence. It was the only time he felt at ease.

And on top of everything, he was hiding it. Very well. He knew he had to, even though he had promised his CMO that he would be truthful. Jim knew he was being dishonest and that, in the end, Bones would find out anyway. But the irrational side of him had taken over.

The voices in his head—sometimes his own, sometimes _the other_ —had convinced him to keep quiet. And silent he stayed; for fear that the _Enterprise_ would be ripped from him, leaving him with absolutely nothing.

The situation came to a head one night when he and McCoy had been in the officers’ mess after hours, Bones scolding him for eating something fatty. Jim had felt it then, had heard his own voice in his head telling him to poke his thumbs into McCoy’s eyes and blind him. The wrath had been raging hot, like an inferno. Kirk could feel the heat cascading down his arms and legs, his fingertips and toes tingling. He clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles turning white. He had concealed his hands in his lap, keeping them very far away from McCoy’s prying eyes.

He knew Bones had seen the change in his demeanor, even though he had brushed it off as nothing. It had taken everything in his power not to snap at the doctor, all the evil thoughts running through his head begging to be let out.

**_[I could kill you where you sit]_ **

**_[slit your throat and watch you bleed out all over the tabletop]_ **

**_[I’d laugh as you gasped for air]_ **

Jim had willed himself not to jump up and run out of the room. Because McCoy would surely have become suspicious then. Instead, Jim feigned exhaustion, telling McCoy he desperately needed rest after a long day. He knew his friend had watched him with skepticism as he left, but he had had no choice. If he were to stay and tough it out, there was a good chance that the doctor would have never left the mess alive.

And that thought terrified Jim.

Then his irrationality took over. He knew he should tell McCoy the surge was back. He and M’Benga could help him. But the threat of losing his command was too great. He knew that Starfleet would have to be notified if he began acting irrationally again. And he would never let them take his chair.

So, Kirk kept everything to himself.

The returning nightmares. His father, Pike—Khan. Or, the inappropriate things that were coming out of his mouth at random times. On more than one occasion he had found himself making tasteless references in the presence of a younger female officer or leered at his Yeoman, making her noticeably uncomfortable. Surely nothing Jim Kirk would ever do if he were in his right mind. And of course there were the ever-present uncontrollable urges to strike officers down where they stood, to watch as they bled on the bridge or were sucked out of an airlock.

And every time one of those awful thoughts found itself meandering through his mind, he would do the only thing he knew would alleviate the pressure—even if it was only temporary.

His time in the gym began to intensify once again. He found himself there late at night, when no one could see him. Jim would hide in his quarters, sometimes backed into a corner because he swore he saw Khan skulking around in the darkness, until he knew it would be safe to go to the workout room and not have an audience.

Every passing second that he could control himself and not let the malicious thoughts invade him—or make him act out—he felt like he still had some semblance of power in his life. He wouldn’t let this overtake him.

Because that would mean losing everything.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX

 

 

The cabin was dark, save for soft, flickering light coming from the bedroom. A mischievous giggle wafted through the still air of the room, followed by a throaty masculine growl.

“Carol…holy sh-“

She laughed again before burying her head underneath the blankets once more. Jim immediately threw his head back with a gasp, clenching his fists loosely in her blonde hair. “Oh my God, you need to stop or I’ll…”

A muffled response emanated from under the quilt. “Or you’ll what, Jim?”

Kirk lifted the sheet and peered underneath. He could never get tired of the sight of Carol with her face buried between his legs. As he felt her mouth on him once again, his eyes rolled and he ceased to care about anything else. He inhaled deeply as waves of pleasure overtook him. He cast the entire quilt aside so he could see her better.

Carol’s movements were slow and deliberate, as if she knew just how to treat him in order to get the perfect reaction. She kept her hands planted firmly on his hips, pressing him down into the mattress every time he attempted to buck away from her.

Jim felt as if he were on fire, the tingling in his groin spreading out to encompass his whole body. He concentrated on Carol and her ministrations, trying to hang on to the ecstasy as long as he possibly could. When she changed her momentum, it sent him reeling and within seconds he shuddered in response, climaxing harder than he had in recent memory.

He couldn’t even form words.

“Ca-“ He brought his hands up to cover his face as he tried to catch his breath. “Jesus…that was...‘nsane.”

Carol moved her body up and rested her head on his abdomen, chin in his navel. She traced her fingers along the toned muscles of his stomach. “I like it when I reduce you gasps and incoherent mumbling.”

“Well, you should be very proud of yourself then.” He tousled her hair and smiled. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. The mood just…struck.” She moved up and lay down next to him, propping herself up on an elbow. She stared into his eyes.

“Would you like me to ‘return the favor’?” He smirked wickedly. “The ‘mood’ seems to have stricken me as well.”

Carol lay back with an anticipatory sigh. “By all means.”

Jim moved purposefully, running his hands slowly down her hips and to her thighs as he slid down the bed. He stopped briefly to kiss both breasts, before trailing his lips down her sternum to her navel. She fisted her hands in his hair and tried to push him down further.

“Oh no you don’t.” He reached up and brushed her hands aside. “Patience, my dear.”

He reached his destination, her scent intoxicating him. For a split second, a flash came over him: strong—and violent. He exhaled sharply, essentially banishing the malicious thought from his mind. He needed to focus on Carol. He lowered his lips to her, a surprised gasp shooting from her mouth almost instantaneously.

She began to writhe on the bed, her hands clenched in tight fists at her sides. Each sound from her mouth encouraged Jim more, telling him without words where to touch, to taste. He explored her intimately, her excitement evident underneath his fingertips.

He couldn’t get enough.

Carol’s moans began to intensify, a sense of urgency projecting with the increasing loudness of her voice. “Jim…don’t stop…”

_I don’t intend to._

_Not until you’re satisfied._

“Tell me what you want.”

Carol tangled her hands in his short hair, pulling his face closer to her core. “Touch me, Jim. Please…”

He obliged her, and within seconds she was whimpering, begging him to continue. Kirk smiled in the darkness and pressed his mouth against her. With one last flick of his tongue, shecame undone and melted into the mattress, keening his name as she quivered.

**_[good. Now you can kill her.]_ **

Jim abruptly pulled away and shook his head, desperately trying to get the sound of his own voice—sinister and corrupted—out of his head.

Carol, concern on her face, sat up on her elbows. “Jim? Are you alright?”

He sat still for a moment, eyes scanning around the room frantically. He swallowed hard and took a cleansing breath before offering a small, hopefully sincere smile. “It’s nothing. I…thought I saw something.” He crawled up the bed, pushing her back as he did so. He moved on top of her, and cradled his head into the crook of her neck, carefully resting his body weight as not to crush her.

Carol purred into his ear. “I’m glad it’s nothing…because I need you. _Right now._ ” She reached down between their bodies and grabbed him.

As they joined, Jim felt the surge return.

_I’m not letting this happen._

_Not now._

_Control yourself, Jim._

He began to move languidly, each passing second forcing the awful feeling of wrath down to his toes. Carol wrapped her legs around his waist and scratched her nails across his back. His movements were unhurried as he felt her whole body flush with heat underneath him. He pushed up for a moment and looked down at her. Her eyes were loosely closed, thin strips of white showing, as her eyes had rolled back in ecstasy. Her mouth hung open, her tongue licking at her lips as she panted.

“ _Captain…_ ”

The sound of her moaning his official title in the darkness made his mind swim. He could feel himself picking up the pace, Carol matching him with her own movements. But he didn’t want this to be over too quickly. He wanted—no, needed—their time together to be slow.

He nuzzled his face into the pillow under her head and breathed into her ear. “Not too fast, love. I want this to last…”

Carol just groaned an unintelligible response and slowed herself, falling into rhythm with Kirk’s leisurely thrusts. She splayed her fingertips across his chest, rubbing her thumbs over his nipples. He inhaled sharply at the sensation and growled seductively.

“I could make love to you all night.”

Carol smirked. “I’m going to hold you to that, you know.” She craned her neck up and began to suck at the junction between his shoulders and throat. Kirk wrapped his arms around her tightly, pulling her into a seated position on his lap. They remained connected, Carol cupping her hands around his face as she kissed him passionately.

They remained like that for a long moment, two bodies moving together in the dim candlelit bedroom. Neither one said a word as they rocked on the bed, each one igniting the other’s flames with fiery moans and busy hands.

**_[smother her]_ **

**_[push her back and watch her die]_ **

Jim’s entire body went rigid and he gasped in the darkness. He gripped her biceps tightly with his strong hands, pressing his fingertips into her skin. Carol, mistaking his sounds and movements for those of intense pleasure, egged him on.

“Getting a little rough, Jim?” She bit his ear. “I like that…”

**_[rough]_ **

He lifted her and slammed her back onto the mattress, never breaking their intimate connection. His breathing became erratic, his heart raced. The surge was threatening to take him completely.

And he couldn’t stop it.

**_[I’ve got you now, Jimmy]_ **

“You haven’t been dominant with me in a long time…I’ve missed it.” Carol tried to crane her head up to kiss him, but he pushed her back down into the pillows and began to move quicker within her.

_Just get this over with and you can hide._

_You can’t let this happen._

**_[rushing isn’t going to save you]_ **

_Not now._

_Oh God…_

_I’m…_

_Help me…_

**_[I’m in control]_ **

And Jim was gone.

He held Carol down at the shoulders, trapping her under his weight and strength. She wriggled underneath him, her face beginning to show concern. She tried to reposition his hands on her shoulders.

“A little too hard, Jim.” She reached up to stroke his cheek. “Slow down, just a bit…please?”

**_[no]_ **

He said nothing as he grabbed the hand at his face by the wrist and pinned it to the pillow. He wished it would break. He increased his speed, forcing her legs apart with his free arm. He reached down and began to fondle her roughly. He threw his head back with a moan, her increasing cries plunging him deeper into his own mind. He laughed sinisterly in the dark room.

Carol tried desperately to free her hands from Jim’s, only to be me with brute strength. She looked up to find Kirk’s pupils dilated, almost covering his entire iris. There was no blue left. His eyes were devoid of any of the sparkle they once held. Instead they seemed hollow and un-seeing, as if Kirk did no longer inhabit his own body. He sneered in the darkness, teeth bearing as he assaulted her. His movements were violent, the headboard smacking against the wall with incredible force.

“Jim, stop! You’re hurting me!” Carol’s voice was laden with pain. She began to panic, flailing at him with her free hand. “Jim, what’s wrong with you?”

Kirk’s eyes were dark and seething as he leaned in close and sneered. “Jim’s not here.”

Carol’s eyes bulged in terror as Kirk clapped his hand over her mouth, stifling the scream that was seconds from erupting.

He thrusted into her violently, ignoring her as she fought and clawed against him. Her muffled cries did nothing but encourage him to move faster and harder. Sweat began to bead on his forehead and drip down his face. Carol arched her body underneath him, trying desperately to get away. Tears streamed out of her eyes as she tried to push him away. She began scratching at his chest, drawing blood as her nails pierced his flesh.

**_[she’s just a worthless bitch]_ **

**_[fuck her into oblivion]_ **

**_[teach her a lesson]_ **

Jim removed his hand from her mouth and began knead her left breast with such force that he instantly bruised her skin. “Scream and I’ll kill you,” he threatened.

Carol sobbed as he pressed her into the bed with each thrust. She pleaded with him to stop. “Please, Jim! Stop!”

“I thought I told you to shut up!” He leaned over and kissed her forcefully, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. His tongue delved deep into her mouth. She gagged as he forced her own tongue out of the way with his own.

She was hitting him now, balled fists pummeling his ribs with fierce strength. Jim could tell that she was having trouble breathing with his mouth over her own. Her breaths, ragged and struggling, puffed against his lips. He tasted the iron-rich blood that had begun to trickle from her bottom lip.

**_[she’s yours to do with as you please]_ **

He finally released the kiss, Carol gasping for air as he leaned back, hands still firmly planted on her chest. He could feel that he was on the verge of orgasm. Each raspy cough that spluttered from her lips encouraged him to thrust harder, ensuring that his release would be as satisfying as he needed it to be.

“Jim, why are you doing this?” She sobbed underneath him, slapping at his arms and chest. “Please...please just stop!”

“You’re a whore…” He struck her across the face as he slammed into her one last time with a grunt. An almost animal-like groan broke from his lips as he climaxed loudly and powerfully, his entire body quaking as his release took him.

And just as soon as it was over, a sharp, white-hot pain erupted behind Kirk’s eyes, causing him to pull out and roll over with an anguished moan. He slipped off the bed and knelt next to it. Carol immediately scrambled away from him, pulling the sheets off the bed and wrapping herself in them. She backed into the corner, tears streaming from her reddened face.

“Ji-…” She wasn’t even able to speak coherently, sobbing into the blanket. “Why did…what…I…”

Kirk cradled his head in his hands. The room was spinning. He could hear Carol’s frightened voice from the dark corner.

_What happened?_

_What…did I do?_

The searing pain in his head began to dissipate and he gingerly cracked his eyes open. He immediately saw his lover—shaking and terrified—in the corner of his bedroom. He looked down at himself, sweaty and still aroused, and within seconds everything came flooding back.

_I…raped her._

_She fought me._

_…told me to stop._

_I hurt her._

_Oh Jesus…_

He stood, hands held up in surrender. He began to approach her, but she pressed herself into the wall and cowered.

“Don’t come any closer!” She wept openly, shaking her head as she yelled.

“Carol…baby, I…” Jim found it hard to breathe. The walls began to close in on him. He fell to his knees in the middle of the room, a few feet from her. “I don’t know what…oh, God…what did I do?”

She said nothing as she dashed away from him, frantically looking for her discarded clothes. “Get away from me!”

“Carol…I’m so sorry…I…” Hot tears stung Jim’s eyes. He had hurt the person closest to him. Physically and emotionally hurt her. There was no way she would ever trust him again. Before he could say anything else, she had slipped her dress on and run from the room in a flurry of tears. He heard his door swish open and shut and he knew she was gone.

Kirk pushed himself to his feet in a confused stupor and stumbled towards the bathroom. The surge had taken him to a place he never thought was possible. He never believed that he would—or could—allow it to grab onto him completely. He had always been able to control it.

_No, not really._

_You hit Bones._

_You…_

_Carol…_

_You’re a monster!_

He flipped on the light and looked at himself in the mirror. Angry red scratches crossed his chest and shoulders. His face was flushed crimson, his eyes bulging and unfocused. The breaths escaping his lungs were forced and short. He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to calm his frazzled mind.

And when he opened them again, he was greeted with his own face—only this time, dark and sinister. The Jim Kirk in the reflection looked possessed, a man driven by violence and malice. Images of Carol writhing underneath him began to flood his brain again, and he unconsciously reached down and massaged himself at the thought. He couldn’t squelch the urge to find her and do it again.

**_[she sure felt good, eh, Jim?]_ **

**_[you like it when they put up a fight, don’t you?]_ **

_Stop it!_

_I’m out of control!_

_Help me!_

_I can’t even look at you!_

Jim screamed in the dim bathroom and slammed his fist into the mirror, splintering the image of himself into hundreds of tiny facets. He crumbled to the floor, blood dripping from his sliced knuckles and onto his thighs.

He sobbed until his eyes would no longer produce tears.


	5. Chapter Five

Dissociation: Chapter Five

 

 

                “Carol, please open the door. I really need to talk to you.”

Kirk got no response. He stood outside her cabin, finger held firm on the intercom button. Passing crewmembers smiled at their Captain, Jim nodding his awkward acknowledgement. Once the hall was clear, he pleaded at the closed and locked door once more.

“Honey, I’m begging you. I’ll get down on my knees and crawl if you want me to…” He sighed heavily and thumped his forehead against the bulkhead in defeat. “Carol…I’m sorry…”

His last words were quiet and remorseful. He waited a few moments more in silence before giving up.

“Alright, I’ll leave…”

He released his finger from the intercom and stood there for a long moment, staring at her door. Jim walked away slowly, heading for his shift on the bridge. He hoped it would go quickly and without incident. After what had happened the night before, he was actually afraid of himself. Frightened of what might happen if that “other Jim” resurfaced.

After Carol had left and he had subsequently picked the glass shards out of his knuckles and dressed his wound, he had sat in his skivvies with a bottle of scotch in the middle of his bedroom floor. Shot after shot, he ran the incident over and over again in his mind.

Jim couldn’t get the terrified look on Carol’s face out of his thoughts.

_She was afraid of me._

_I hurt her so badly._

_I’m a monster._

He could recall nothing of the actual assault—thank God—but he knew it must have been awful. The last thing he remembered was pushing Carol back onto the mattress with such force that the bedside lamp rattled on the nightstand. He had felt the surge try and take him, and obviously, it had won out over his resistance.

The next thing he knew, there had been a searing pain behind his eyes and he found himself nearly collapsed next to the bed, staring at Carol cowering in the corner. She had been terrified of him, pressing herself into the wall as he rose to try and make some sort of peace. He would never forget the look on her face.

She had scrambled away from him as he tried to reach out to her, screaming at him not to come any closer. Every word from her mouth was like a red-hot needle being jammed directly into his heart. She was angry and hurt, afraid and so very broken.

And it was all because of _him._

Jim knew that he was in serious trouble. The other voice—that had turned into much more than a specter goading him within his thoughts—had manifested itself in such an unbelievable way that Kirk was actually afraid of himself. But he knew he couldn’t let anyone in on what was going on in his mind. If he did…

_…they’d lock me up._

_…take my ship._

_It would be a fate worse than death._

So he hid it.

Hiding was something he had become very proficient in over the last few months. Although, now it was an everyday occurrence. He missed the days before Khan’s blood. When he could dream peacefully, walk down the halls of his beloved _Enterprise_ without being worried he was going to grab an officer by the neck and strangle them. He longed to be able to hold Carol in his arms again and make love—something he feared would never happen again in his lifetime.

And he didn’t know if he could live like that.

He didn’t even realize that he had walked down the hallway and entered a lift, taking him to the bridge. It wasn’t until the doors swished open that he snapped himself out of his daydream.   As Kirk exited the turbolift and strode onto the bridge, Spock stood and met him. Jim concealed his bandaged hand behind his back.

“Good morning, Captain. All systems are functioning and we are holding steady at one-half impulse power. We should be passing close to a recently formed asteroid cloud in a few hours, but should not be concerned about receiving any damage to the hull.” He handed Jim a PADD. “There are two files from Starfleet that require your signature and Doctor Marcus has requested to be released from her appointed shift this morning. Shall I grant her request?”

Jim could feel his meager breakfast rise in his throat at the mention of her name. He accepted the PADD and answered his First Officer quietly. “Yes, go ahead. She’s not feeling well today.”

“Shall I contact Doctor McCoy?”

Kirk shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. I’m sure she’s just got a little bug.” He moved toward his chair and sat with a heavy sigh. Spock returned to his post and resumed his previous work. Jim opened the two communiques from headquarters and, not bothering to really read them, signed the documents and sent them on their way.

He arched his back and tried to get comfortable in his seat. His entire body felt stiff and his head was beginning to pound. He sighed as he looked at his chronometer and realized it was only nine-hundred-hours.

_It’s gonna be a long day._

_Carol must not have told anyone._

_I’d be in the brig if she had._

He looked up at the view screen and billowed out a long breath from puffed cheeks, watching the stars move as the ship glided through the emptiness of space.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“Hold the lift, Captain?”

Uhura ran towards the closing door. Jim stuck his hand in front of the sensor, stopping it before it sealed. He smiled warmly as the Lieutenant slipped into the turbolift, smoothing a hand over her hair as she caught her breath.

“Thanks, I really didn’t feel like waiting for the next one.” She chuckled at herself. “Boy, if that isn’t lazy, I don’t know what is.”

“Don’t mention it, I like the company.” Kirk sighed and leaned against the side wall. “Shift over?”

Uhura nodded. “Yes, and not a moment too soon. I’ve really been dragging lately. I don’t know what it is.”

**_[I know a cure]_ **

“Probably just being out in the black for so long. You should try and relax more.” He reached out and brushed a wayward strand of hair from her cheek, pushing it behind her ear. Uhura immediately pulled back from him, surprised.

“Captain?”

Jim inched closer to her and pushed her into the corner. His hands moved to her hips, and he squeezed. “Let me help you relax, Nyota. I can…” He leaned in and pressed his face into her neck, inhaling the soft scent of her perfume. He released his hand from her waist for just a moment to reach over and stop the turbolift. “…take all your cares away.”

Uhura tried to pry his hands away. “Jim, what are you doing? Let go of me.”

**_[you’re mine]_ **

“I know that Spock doesn’t satisfy you. You dark girls are all alike, you need a big man to get you off, not some half-breed. I bet he’s really small…”

Uhura attempted to squirm away from him. “Are you kidding me? If this is a joke, it’s sick.”

“C’mon, baby, don’t be like this. You know I make you wet.” He pressed his groin into her thigh, his hardness grinding against her leg. He growled into her ear. “And you make me wild. God, I just want to fuck you so bad. Right here, right now.”

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” She slapped his face in disgust, instantly leaving a red mark on his cheek. “You’re way out of line, _Captain!_ ”

“You know you want me. Admit it. Just think of what I can do to you.” He grabbed her chin and mashed his lips against her own. She struggled under his grip as he pressed his tongue against her mouth, forcing his way past her teeth.

“Let me go!” She pushed with all her might, shoving Jim against the other side of the lift compartment. He smirked at her with lusting eyes and sneering lips.

**_[you can’t keep me away]_ **

“You’re a stupid cunt, you know that?” Kirk raised a finger in warning as he started the turbolift’s ascent again. “I could have made you a Commander at the drop of a hat, but you just threw it all away. _Ensign Uhura_ has a nice ring, doesn’t it?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

The lift came to a stop. “Watch me.” He tried to move in on her once more, only to be thwarted by raised fists. “Tell anyone, and I leave you at the next Starbase.”

The doors opened and Jim left, sauntering down the hallway.

Uhura watched in disbelief, not wanting to acknowledge what had just happened. The doors slid shut and she began to cry.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“I’m sorry, Jim. There was nothing I could do to save him.”

McCoy and Kirk stood in the small room adjacent to the main Sick Bay. They looked down at the silent biobed, and the body bag lying on top.

“By the time Scotty got him up here, the damage had been done. Aneurysms are a fickle thing, one minute you’re here and the next…well…” Kirk was silent. McCoy expected him to say something, but nothing came. “Jim? You okay?”

The Captain nodded, still staring at the corpse. His eyes seemed distant to the Doctor, and McCoy could barely see that his pupils were dilated more than they should be in the bright light.

“His wishes were to be buried on Earth, so we’ll have to put him in the deep freeze until we can get back.”

Kirk finally made a sound. It wasn’t what McCoy was expecting.

He laughed.

“Just blow him out of the fucking airlock.” His voice had a sinister undertone to it.

McCoy was flabbergasted. He stood for a long moment, just staring at Jim. When he could finally find words, he managed to speak.

“What the hell, Jim! This guy just lost his life and you say ‘blow him out the airlock’?”

“Yup.” Jim stared at the body, cracking his knuckles. He smirked evilly.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

Jim licked his lips, never taking his eyes off of the body. “He was a dick, Bones—and a horrible officer. He should have never been on my ship in the first place.”

McCoy crossed his arms over his chest and watched Jim carefully as he tried to come up with a response that didn’t involve punching Kirk in the nose for what he had just said. He could see it in the kid’s face—clenched jaw, dark eyes. There was something in the way that Jim stared at the deceased officer, haunting and almost as if he was trying not to laugh.

“That’s not funny, dammit! Why the hell would you think sayin’ something like that is okay?”

“Relax, Bones. I was kidding.” Kirk brushed him off. “Sorry, alright? I just…don’t know how to react to these kind of situations sometimes.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.

“Kidding? That was brutal and uncalled for.”

It was then that McCoy noticed the change. In a matter of seconds, Jim’s eyes had regained their sparkle. His features were no longer strained and brooding. He looked ashamed of what he had said, and was obviously trying to cover his tracks. The wheels in Leonard’s brain started to turn and he came to a rather swift and horrifying conclusion. He had never seen it in person, but had read plenty of medical literature on the subject.

_Dissociative Identity Disorder._

_Oh shit._

Moments from the past few weeks came flooding back to him. Jim lashing out in Sick Bay, the fire in his eyes so bright as he squeezed McCoy’s neck to the point of suffocation. The way the Doctor would sometimes notice Jim’s eyes lose their luster as he seemed to drift off and away from conversations. Jim’s admission of feeling surging energy taking him, his need to punish his body in the gym for relief that really never came.

He felt sick. Even without proper testing, he knew it had something to do with Khan’s blood. That goddamn enzyme that was attacking Jim’s brain cells. It must have changed his brain chemistry somehow. He mentally kicked himself for not noticing something—anything—that would have clued them in on Kirk’s mental state.

Of course, Jim had to have been lying about what was going on with himself lately. And that made the Doctor angry. Mad because he could have been helping him this whole time. Pissed because who knows what kind of damage Jim was doing to himself by avoiding treatment.

In that instant, McCoy became very worried for his friend.

And afraid of him.

“Bones?”   The Doctor snapped himself out of his thoughts at the sound of Kirk’s voice. “Hey, look, don’t think I’m an asshole, alright? I don’t know what came over me.”

_‘I don’t know what came over me.’_

_I think I do, Jim._

_I hope I’m wrong._

Kirk looked at him with pleading eyes, almost showing a hint of fear behind the blue.

McCoy decided not to push the subject of his new theory at the moment. Standing over a deceased crewmember was not the proper place for such a conversation. Besides, he wanted to talk to M’Benga about what he had theorized before he brought it before Jim. He needed to be very well prepared. He swallowed his fury with Jim and replied.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. You’ve had a long day, and I know that you don’t deal with death very well. I’ve already forgotten it.” He offered a comforting smile. “You want me to contact the family?”

Jim shook his head. “No, I’ll do it. One of the more awful duties as Captain, but it should be mine and mine alone.”

“Sure, Jim. Hey, listen,” he suggested. McCoy hesitated for a brief moment as he closed the zipper on the bag. “Make sure you’re resting enough, alright? I can tell that you’re not yourself lately. Sleep more, work less. Got it?”

_Not yourself._

_I hope I can save you._

“Okay. You need me to sign the death certificate?” Jim began walking towards the door.

“I’ll send it when I complete the autopsy.”

Kirk just nodded silently and walked away.

McCoy dimmed the lights in the room on his way out, his mind flashing back to Kirk in a similar body bag.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

 

“Geoff, could you come in here for a minute?”

M’Benga put the infant he had been holding back in her bassinette and strode into McCoy’s office, a large grin on his face.

“She sure is cute—and has quite the honor of being the first baby born on the _Enterprise._ ”

McCoy motioned to the seat in front of his desk. He really didn’t feel like chit-chatting today. “Listen, we need to talk about Jim.” He closed the door with a touch of a button on his desk.

“Sure doc…you look worried.”

“I am. Have you noticed anything ‘off’ about him lately?”

M’Benga thought for a long moment. “Now that you mention it, he seemed really distant when I was talking to him yesterday in the mess. It was like he was trying to keep himself in the conversation and something in him was attempting to pull him away.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. Geoff, I think this shitstorm just got a whole lot worse.”

“What makes you say that?”

McCoy sighed heavily. “He said something very out of character today in a situation that most definitely did not warrant it. The more I thought about it, everything started to fall into place.”

“Fall into place? Len, what’s going on?”

The Doctor scrubbed a hand over his face and mouth. “Dissociative Identity Disorder. I think Khan’s blood is doing it.”

“Multiple personalities? Based on what?”

“Think about it, Geoff. He attacked me in medical after Sulu found him. You remember the rage in his eyes? It was like he wasn’t there. And this afternoon, he suggested that I blow Lieutenant Moore’s body out of an airlock. That same darkness was present. Then he brushed it off and I immediately noticed a change in his expression and personality.” He shook his head. “And the worst thing is—I think he knows exactly what’s going on. He’s hiding it again.”

“What do we do? We can’t let him waltz around here like nothing’s wrong. He might hurt someone.”

“Well, we just can’t approach him and ask him if he’s got another person livin’ in his head, now can we?” M’Benga scowled at his outburst and McCoy immediately felt bad for snapping. “Sorry, I’m just…”

“I know you’re frustrated and worried. You and me both. But we need to find a solution that will help—and quick.”

McCoy nodded in agreement. “I’m already partially there, Geoff. We can’t have Jim bein’ suspicious, but I think if we ask around covertly, maybe we can get to the bottom of this and make a more concrete diagnosis.”

“Ask around? For what?”

“Let’s find crew members who are around him a lot, maybe his Yeoman…or some of the guys in Engineering. He likes to hang out down there. Hopefully we can get some insight into his personality—and if it’s been changing. God knows he wouldn’t come to us is somethin’ was up. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to talk to Carol Marcus, either. It’s no secret that they have an ongoing relationship.” McCoy stopped to think a moment before adding, “But don’t tell Spock. I need this to be on the down-low. As First Officer, he’d probably use his damn logic to find a way to have to tell Jim what we’re doing.”

M’Benga furrowed his brows. “I don’t like this, Len. We’re going behind his back. I know he’s in trouble, but he’s also the Captain.”

“Listen to me. If he catches wind of this, especially if he’s surging again, who knows what he’ll do? As CMO, I can order procedures over his head. This counts as a procedure…alright?” McCoy raised his eyebrows.

“I guess…but what happens if you’re right? What if he’s got another Kirk living in there?”

McCoy’s shoulders sagged. “Then I do the only thing I can do. I let Starfleet take his commission.”

Both men sat in silence as the reality of their situation sunk in.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

**The Next Day**

 

“I know this is probably difficult, Yeoman Cortez, but it’s really important. You need to tell me what he did.”

The young lady sat in McCoy’s office, looking nervously at the closed door. She wrung her hands in her lap. “It’s really nothing, Doctor.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Something obviously happened; otherwise you wouldn’t have agreed to see me.”

She shifted in her seat. “He told me that he wanted to…” Her voice quieted to barely a whisper and she looked down at her feet. “…that he wanted to…f-fuck me into next week, Sir.”

McCoy couldn’t believe his ears. Actually…he could. In the past two hours he had heard two accounts from various officers, both female, of almost identical content. And that was after three others had relayed various verbal assaults of a non-sexual nature.

“I’m sorry, Cortez. Why didn’t you tell anyone?” McCoy already knew the answer.

“He said he’d kick me off the ship. That my career in Starfleet would be over.”

Leonard nodded solemnly. “I want you to know that you can always come to me with anything. And don’t worry, you’re not going to lose your position, I assure you. Your testimony is going to ensure the Captain get the help he needs, you hear me?”

She fought back tears and forced a weak smile. “Thank you, Doctor. I was just so afraid of him. His eyes…they were dark. I know it sounds weird, that eyes changed like that, but I’m telling you—it’s like he wasn’t there.”

“I know, Yeoman. Now, I need you to keep this to yourself for the time being. Can you do that for me?”

“Of course, Doctor McCoy.”

He stood, the young woman following suit. “Thank you for your honesty, Cortez.”

She nodded her acknowledgement and turned to leave. As the door slid open, she nearly ran into Lieutenant Uhura. The two women exchanged polite greetings. After the Yeoman had taken her leave, Uhura poked her head into the office.

“Do you have a moment, Doctor?”

McCoy beckoned her with his fingers. He stood next to the replicator, ordering himself his fifth cup of coffee since oh-nine-hundred. “Come on in. You want some shitty replicated coffee?”

“No thanks.” She clasped her hands behind her back anxiously and watched as he retrieved the steaming cup from the alcove. “Doctor M’Benga told me you’ve been looking to talk with crew members that have witnessed the Captain acting strangely.”

McCoy closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

_Jesus, Jim._

_I can’t let you stay in the chair much longer…_

“You too, huh?” Uhura nodded silently. “Have a seat.”

She sat, crossing her legs, resting her hands in her lap.

“Before you start—for the record—this will have to go into my medical files. But it will be confidential can be anonymous if you choose it to be.” He stirred a small amount of sugar into his coffee.

“I understand, Doctor.” She exhaled deeply, trying to decide where to begin. “The Captain, he…well, he sexually harassed me in a turbolift yesterday.”

“Dammit, that is not what I wanted to hear.” McCoy shook his head in disbelief. “Go on. I need to hear everything.”

“I called for him to hold the lift, and he did. Soon after it began moving, he started to say very sexually charged things. He cornered me, pressed me up against the wall of the lift. He was…aroused.” She closed her eyes for a moment as she composed her thoughts. “He told me I needed to relax, and that he would ‘help me.’ He made allusions to Spock not being able to satisfy me and that he could do a much better job. He said he that he knew that he made me wet, and that he wanted to ‘fuck me right here, right now’.”

“Did he _touch_ you?”

“He kissed me very forcefully, and held my hips in place so I couldn’t move away from him. He was pressing…himself…into my thigh.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry, Nyota.”

“I should also mention that he used a derogatory racial comment. He referred to me as a ‘dark girl’.” She paused for a moment before leaning forward, resting her palms on the desk. “Leonard, he wasn’t in his right mind. I mean, he can be brash sometimes, but I know he’d never do anything like that to me…to any woman. I’m in no way defending what he did, but something wasn’t right.”

McCoy sat back in his chair. “Why didn’t you tell anyone right away?”

“He threatened me with demotion. Normally I wouldn’t take that kind of crap, but there was something in his eyes that told me just to leave the situation.”

_His eyes._

_This is for real._

_There’s another Jim._

She continued. “I realize now that I should have come forward right away, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. Jim’s fighting some damn strong demons right now, and we just need to get him help.”

“I take it the Yeoman wasn’t here on a medical call?”

McCoy sighed. “You’re very observant. And also right. I can’t really tell you what she said, you know, patient confidentiality and all, but…”

“I’m guessing she and I had a similar encounter with Jim?”

“You could say that.”

Uhura’s eyes saddened as she looked away from the Doctor. She stared off into the office. “I’m scared for him.”

“Me too, Nyota. Me too.”

“Can you help him?”

Leonard honestly didn’t know.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“She’s sick? How can somebody be sick without me knowing?”

Jim cringed at the sound of McCoy’s voice. The Doctor had wandered onto the bridge, looking for Carol. Kirk sat and feigned occupation as the Doctor and Spock talked. More like McCoy yelled and Spock listened, but a conversation was taking place.

“How long’s she been out?”

“This is the second requested day, Doctor. The Captain seems to think she just has ‘a little bug’.”

_Don’t talk to me._

_Please don’t ask me about Carol…_

“A little bug? What, are you a doctor now?” McCoy sidled up next to Kirk’s chair.

The Captain turned to face him, steeling himself as he did so. “Of course not, Bones. She’s just under the weather.” He felt like he was going to throw up. He wanted to be anywhere but the bridge right now. He just wanted McCoy to go away.

“Well, I’m going to check on her. I need to talk to her anyway.”

_Why?_

**_[kill them both]_ **

Jim gripped his armrest tightly, his knuckles turning white with the new pressure. His heart was beating so fast he thought it would jump out of his chest.

“You okay, Jim?” McCoy eyed him suspiciously, then focused his gaze on Jim’s hand, small scabs dotting his knuckles. “And what the hell’d you do to your hand?”

“It’s nothing. Just broke a mirror and cut my fingers picking up the pieces.” He covered the injury with his other palm. “I’m fine, alright? Too much coffee this morning, I think. It’s making me jittery.” He forced a goofy smile and hoped Bones bought the lie.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow at him before responding. “Sure, whatever you say.”

_He knows something._

_He’s on to me._

**_[rip his lungs out]_ **

Jim jumped up from his seat and hurriedly shooed McCoy away. “Look, I gotta pee, Bones. Catch you later?” He wanted off the bridge—and away from his best friend—so badly he almost knocked his CMO down. He dashed past him and into his ready room.

Once safely inside, he locked the door and ran into the tiny bathroom just in time to vomit all over the sink.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

Carol answered the door with puffy red eyes.

“’Came to check on you. You’ve missed two shifts.”

“Are you alone?” She poked her head out of the door to look both ways down the corridor before she quickly ushered him in. She was dressed in loose-fitting pajama pants and a tattered Starfleet Academy sweatshirt. Her hair was messy and she didn’t have an ounce of makeup on. She said nothing as she sat down on her couch, motioning for Leonard to do the same. She wiped her nose on her sleeve, her eyes puffy and red.

“Doctor Marcus, the Captain told me you were under the weather.” McCoy noticed that she shuddered at the mention of Jim. “Carol, what’s wrong? I’m pretty sure you’re not suffering from a physical ailment.”

She licked her dry lips and looked away from him.

_Oh no._

“Carol…what did he do?”

She looked up at him in surprise. Tears began to well up in the corners of her eyes. “How…how did you know?”

“Call it ‘Southern Intuition’. Listen to me, alright? Whatever happened, you need to tell me.”

Carol sniffled and focused her attention on her chipping fingernail polish. She picked at it anxiously. It was obvious to McCoy that she was avoiding the subject. He moved from the small chair he was sitting in and sat right next to her, grabbing her hand in his own. She immediately began to cry.

“Our night started out so wonderfully. He was gentle and loving, making sure I was completely satisfied.” She frowned deeply, choked sobs escaping her lips. “But then…it was like something in him snapped. He…”

_Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say._

“…he wouldn’t stop. He held me down, put his hand over my mouth and…” She wept openly. “…it hurt so bad.”

McCoy wished he had the words she needed to hear. He just didn’t know what the hell they might be. His mind began to race. He would have to remove Jim from duty. Kirk would flip out. And then he’d be forced to put him in the brig—or sedate him heavily until they could return to Earth.

“Doctor McCoy, please don’t report this. It was a one-time thing…”

Leonard could tell that she was trying to make excuses for him. She was desperately trying to hold on to some semblance of normalcy with the man that she clearly loved. But he knew he couldn’t. He would have to deal with Kirk himself.

“Carol, he raped you.”

She shook her head. “No. It’s partly my fault. I told him…well, he was being a little rough and I told him I liked it. Then he got out of control.”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself, or think for one minute that you encouraged him.” McCoy held her hand tightly in his own. “ _He raped you._ ”

“It wasn’t him, Leonard. He was…someone else.” She wiped her eyes with her free hand. “He actually said, ‘Jim’s not here’.”

_There it is._

_The proof I needed…_

_…that I was dreading._

She continued. “I’m so torn. I’ve never been more scared in my life, not even when my father was doing all those awful things. I care for Jim so deeply—I think I may actually be in love with him—and now I don’t know if I can ever be in the same room with him again. I don’t know if I can ever feel safe if he’s around.” She pulled her hand from McCoy’s fingers and covered her face with her hands. Her sobs were muffled.

McCoy scooted closer and put his arm around her shoulders. She immediately nestled into his embrace, burying her head in the crook of his neck. He could feel the warm wetness of her tears begin to soak through his tunic.

“Listen to me, Carol. And this is between you and me, so you can’t tell a soul, got it?” She nodded feebly into his shoulder. He couldn’t believe he was about to break confidentiality like this. But she needed to hear it—regulations be damned. Jim’s entire career, and possibly his life were at stake. “I think I know what’s going on. It doesn’t excuse any of his behavior, and it certainly doesn’t remove any blame for what he did to you, but…”

_You need to tell her._

_She needs some sort of peace of mind._

_Even if it is awful news._

“…there’s a good possibility that Jim is suffering from a mental illness brought on by Khan’s blood. M’Benga and I have to do more testing and a little more research to be sure, but it’s looking like he really does have another person in there with him. And it was that personality—not our Jim—that assaulted you.” He knew his words probably weren’t going to help, but he felt he needed to give Kirk even a little ounce of defense. It just felt awkward telling it to the woman he had raped days before.

“That means he can’t stay Captain…”

McCoy held her tighter, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Yeah, I’m afraid so. But don’t worry; we’ll get him the help he needs.”

_I hope._

_I doomed him the minute I injected that blood into him._

_What have I done?_

“I’m scared of him.” Her voice was meek. “And I don’t want to be.”

“I know, sweetheart. What he did was awful and it’ll be up to you both to decide whether or not to grant forgiveness and be able to move forward.” He sighed. “I don’t want to detract from what happened, because it’s very serious and he needs to be punished. But…don’t lose hope. Don’t give up on him.”

_How the hell can you say that…_

_…when you lose more and more hope every second._

_You don’t know what you’re doing._

Carol pushed back from his embrace and reached for a tissue. She blew her nose before responding. “I can’t even think about that right now. I’m broken, and I just wish I could crawl into a hole and hide there for a year.” She clasped her hands in her lap and stared down at them. “One minute I never want to see him again, and the next I’m trying to find something in the situation that I could have done differently.”

“I told you before; don’t think that you could have done anything differently to change what happened. The Jim you and I both know was long gone by then.”

“So…what happens now? You’ll have to relieve him of command soon, won’t you?”

McCoy nodded solemnly. “Yes.”

Carol looked away and sighed. “When?”

“He’s not scheduled for a shift tomorrow. It’ll be easier if I can catch him in his quarters.”

_Shit, I’m going to have to have a security team with me._

_With Khan’s blood in his system, he’s stronger than he’s ever been._

_If he goes mental, he could kill someone…_

_…could kill me._

“Are you going to put him in the brig?”

McCoy frowned. “I have to. I know he won’t stay in his cabin. And besides, he committed a pretty heinous crime against you.”

“I understand. Part of me feels terrible that this is happening to him, but…” She clenched her petite hands into fists. “…another piece of me wants to see him rot in there. And I’m not sorry for those feelings.”

“And you shouldn’t be. Look, he did a terrible thing, whether he was in control or not. No one expects you to just forget it at the drop of a hat.” He patted her hand. “You’re going to need help too, Carol. Please talk to the ship’s counselor. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

“Sure.” She looked to him with apprehension in her eyes. “Will you…tell me when it’s done?”

McCoy grabbed her hand again and squeezed reassuringly. “Of course. Listen, do you need a medical workup? Or emergency contraception?”

She shook her head. “No, physically I’m fine. But, I think I’m going to go lie down.”

McCoy got up to leave, Carol standing with him. “I’ll sign off on another sick day for you tomorrow. Lay low, alright?”

“Thank you…for everything.”

_Don’t thank me yet._

_Jim might not win this fight._

_He’s in dire straits._

_I can’t lose him again…_

“I’ll be in touch.” The door hissed shut behind him. Leonard stood silently in the hallway for a moment, dazed. He didn’t want to believe that Jim was capable of such a violent assault on the woman that meant so much to him. That he had snapped so terribly.

That his mind was harboring a dark and sinister secret.

McCoy took a deep breath and headed towards Sick Bay. He had a lot to prepare for before morning.


	6. Chapter Six

Dissociation: Chapter Six

                Kirk stood naked in his dark cabin.

The phaser felt so good in his hand, his arousal in the other. He groaned softly in the low light as his hand slowly moved. He instinctively compressed his fingers around the handle of the weapon as he increased the speed of his other hand, relishing in the sensation of his quickly approaching orgasm.

He closed his eyes, the images of the dream he had awoken from earlier still vivid in his mind. The ship—it had broken apart mid-warp, scattering crewmembers and debris across thousands of miles of space in mere seconds. The hull breach that caused the destruction had been by his own hands, a few quick keystrokes in Engineering and the core blew. He had floated alongside the _Enterprise_ , watching as his officers froze instantly in the bitter cold of space, their bodies exploding into shards as they were sucked into the warp field. Moments later the entire ship dissolved into the blue tendrils of warp travel, leaving behind only dust.

Indistinguishable from the blackness that surrounded the space where the once majestic Federation flagship travelled.

The destruction of the ship, even in his dreams, should have terrified James Kirk. Should have shaken him to his core, tore him from his sleep in a surprised fit. But James Kirk was gone.

The other one was in his place.

This Jim found the entire situation so entertaining he quickly brought himself to full arousal. The thought of all those crewmembers dying at his hand made him feel electrified—and wholly powerful.

_Like a God._

His thoughts shifted and his hand moved swifter. He could see Uhura’s battered body on his floor, her blood staining the carpet. She still had life in her eyes, but it was dulling with each beat of her heart—beats that were forcing blood from the slice across her jugular.

He squeezed the trigger on the phaser, the safety catch activating before the pulse could fire.

As Uhura’s life ended in his mind—as she took her last shaky breath—Kirk’s release ripped through him, and he spilled himself onto his hand. A satisfied growl rattled in his throat as he calmed from his high.

**_[it’s time]_ **

He dropped the phaser to the floor and walked to the bathroom, stepping over an overturned chair blocking his way. Turning the shower on as hot as he could get the water, he stepped inside and let the liquid sluice off of his body, washing away any trace of the ecstasy he had enjoyed moments before.

He robotically washed his hair and body, taking only moments when James Kirk would have stayed in the stall for as long as he could, rubbing aching muscles through the heat of the water. Within minutes he was refreshed, ready to take on the day. A quick swipe of his trusty razor and a comb through his hair and he was clean-shaven and immaculately groomed. He splashed on a tiny bit of aftershave and smiled devilishly at himself in the shattered mirror.

Today was a perfect day for murder.

With one swipe of his hand, he pushed the entire countertop’s worth of items onto the floor.

He sauntered out into his stateroom in the nude, stopping briefly at his dresser to choose a pair of boxers. Kirk made sure he didn’t step on the shards of glass embedded in the carpet. He settled on shorts emblazoned with the Starfleet logo. Very fitting the killing of Federation members. A sinister chuckle escaped his lips as he put them on.

As he pulled on his black off-duty shirt and pants, he remembered how valiantly his counterpart had fought him that morning. The cabin had taken most of the brunt of the rage that had bubbled over. But, there had also been collateral damage to their body as well. He looked down at the hands they had both used, bruised and cut from the beating they had taken. A quick glance at the far wall of the cabin—and the bloody knuckle prints that resided there—reminded him of just how much of a fight Jim had put up. The Captain had been stubborn and unwilling to let him take over their body, but in the end, he hadn’t been strong enough. Even mercilessly slamming his fists into the wall, trying desperately to take some sort of control, there had been no way to win. James T. Kirk had succumbed to this new man, fizzling away into the recesses of their shared brain.

And now this new Jim was in control.

He vowed to stay there.

Picking up the phaser from the floor, he switched off the safety and set the charge to kill. He took a long, deep breath, exhaling with a smug smile. He tucked the weapon in his waistband and pulled his tunic over it.

The man that was once James Kirk exited the cabin and headed towards the bridge.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“We’re going to take the Captain into custody.”

Leonard McCoy tapped his fingers fretfully on his desktop, waiting for a response from the three security officers he had requested. He was exhausted, and hadn’t slept at all the previous night. He knew he probably looked like hell, but didn’t give a damn. He just wanted to get this over with.

All three of the men stood quietly, mouths hanging open in silent surprise. They shifted their collective weights nervously, seemingly none of them willing to ask the inevitable question. McCoy sighed heavily and briefed them.

_Just tell them about his medical issues._

_That’s reason enough to grab him._

_No need to drag him through the mud about the assault._

_Carol doesn’t want it this way._

_…neither would Jim._

“Captain Kirk is suffering from a potential mental imbalance. For the safety of the crew and ship, I need him under protection.”

A young Ensign spoke up. “With all due respect, Doctor, is he really that much of a threat? It seems extreme to need three security officers.”

_You have no idea, kid._

_I’m pretty sure he’d kill you if he had the chance._

“Unfortunately, yes. There’s a real possibility that he’ll fight us. I need you to be there in case he gets out of control.” McCoy hesitated, hardly believing that he was going to utter his next words. “Set your phasers to stun—highest charge.”

The officers quietly armed their weapons.

“You may need to subdue him with force, and you have my permission to stun him if necessary.” He rubbed his hand across his stubbled chin. “But let me try and talk to him first. Only fire if I give you the order, understood?”

All three young men nodded and answered in unison. “Yes, Sir.”

“Alright, then. We’re going to take him from his quarters. He’s off-duty today, so he should be there. It’s early enough.” He stood and rubbed the back of his neck, wincing as the stiff muscles protested. He grabbed his Med Kit and headed towards the door, the three officers in tow.

They exited the Med Bay, a few crewmembers giving them quizzical looks. It wasn’t often that the Chief of Medicine was accompanied by armed officers. Everyone gave them a wide berth as they made their way down the corridor and into the main turbolift.

McCoy wrung his hands tightly around the handle of the kit, clenching his jaw as his fingers did the same. He took a deep breath as one of the Lieutenants with him activated the lift, sending them rocketing towards the Captain’s deck. The nervous feeling in his stomach returned as the elevator lurched to life.

He hated to have to do this to Jim. They had been best friends since the Academy. Sure, they hadn’t started out as such—Jim annoyed the living hell out of him from the get-go. Being the only un-registered cadets on their shuttle had automatically made them roommates, even though McCoy bitched to high heaven about being stuck with a “kid.” Jim had just smiled childishly the whole time as Leonard groused to the housing administrator. And in the end, nothing mattered because there was hardly enough room for the cadets that already had their place. New arrivals couldn’t be choosy.

Through everything they had encountered together; the Kobayashi Maru, Nero and then Khan, they always had each other’s backs. Even when Jim went running off guns-blazing into situations where McCoy wanted nothing more than to strangle him—he put on a brave face and allowed Jim to be “Jim.”

And now that man didn’t exist anymore.

And a best friend was going to betray the other by imprisoning him.

_It’s not betrayal, Len._

_Don’t let this get personal._

_He needs to be where he can’t hurt anyone…_

_…or himself._

_I’m sorry, Jim._

The lift stopped and the doors slid open. One of the officers held the door as he motioned for everyone to step out. “After you, Doc.”

McCoy just nodded his acknowledgement with a grunt as he exited. He knew he couldn’t hesitate now. Kirk’s life hung in the balance. This just needed to be quick and by the books. He expected Jim to fight. He expected a struggle. He just hoped a hypo full of sedatives was all he needed—and not a phaser shot.

A short walk led them to the Captain’s quarters. A small brass plaque adorned the space just above the comm panel. Jim’s name and rank were engraved in the metal. He solemnly laid his hand on the placard for a quick moment before entering in his medical override code. He had decided not to alert Jim to their presence by ringing the bell. That would just give him time to hide—or lay in wait for them.

The door slid open, a rush of crisp air lightly scented with Jim’s aftershave expanded out into the hallway. McCoy took a tentative step into the dark room. He motioned for the security detail to stay in the corridor.

“Jim?” He inched into the cabin, anxiously looking around the corner that led into Kirk’s small kitchenette. “You here?”

He was met with absolute silence.

And total chaos.

Jim’s quarters, usually meticulously kept, were a disaster area. Cushions from the couch were scattered around the room, one having been torn to shreds. Overturned chairs, smashed artwork, the video screen mounted to the wall hanging by one bent bracket. A clear glass model of the _Enterprise,_ a prized gift from the senior members of the crew—lay in pieces on the shelf it had resided on.

McCoy had to take a moment to regain his breath. Never in his life had he seen this type of behavior from his friend. And he was very scared for Jim—and everyone else on the ship.

The bedroom door was open; Jim’s unmade bed visible from the living room. As McCoy moved into the room, mindful of the chair knocked over in the doorway, he could see that clothes and personal belongings scattered the floor. A photo frame, containing a picture of Jim and Christopher Pike, was shattered on the top of the dresser. Kirk’s gold command tunic was thrown across the bed, the insignia ripped off and thrown haphazardly beside it.

Red splatters on the carpet caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. His fingers clenched around the handle of the Med Kit and he held his breath.

It was blood.

_Oh God, Jim._

_What did you do?_

_Maybe he cut his hand?_

_…or beat someone up…_

“Jim? C’mon now, don’t do this. I just want to talk to you.”

He inched into the tiny bathroom, only to find it empty. Jim’s razor, toothbrush, hair products—everything that had been on the counter—were on the floor. The bathroom mirror had been shattered, dried blood flecking the glass. A wet towel lay in the corner.

McCoy’s heart sunk. ~~~~

Everything that the Doctor saw in front of him—the rooms in shambles, bloody stains on the wall, the smashed bathroom mirror—they all pointed to what he feared most. Jim’s mental state had deteriorated to the point of a breakdown. He knew in his heart that the man they all knew and loved was long gone.

As he left the bathroom, his eyes found bloody streaks on the far wall, as if it had been punched over and over again. A quick scan of the substance with his Tricorder confirmed the blood belonged to Kirk. The Doctor was relieved that the blood wasn’t someone else’s. Now he just had to figure out why it was there—and where Jim was.

He blew out a long breath and called to the security guards. “He’s not here. C’mon in—shut the door behind you.”

The officers did as they were told, meeting McCoy in the small living room. He paced back and forth as he thought.

_Where the hell is he?_

_God, Jim, please don’t do anything stupid._

_Gotta think like him._

_Where would I go?_

_Carol’s quarters?_

_Maybe…_

_Gym?_

_Probably…_

“Alright, gentlemen. This is now a hunt. We need to do this quietly, trying our damndest not to let on that it’s him we’re after.” He shook his head in disbelief. “He’s no dummy, it won’t take him long to figure out something’s up.”

“Do you have any idea as to where he might be?”

McCoy nodded. “Yeah. He frequents the ship’s gym. My money’s on there.”

_Jesus, I hope I’m right._

_I hope we can intercept him._

_I have a horrible feeling…_

“And listen…” He hesitated, knowing that the possibility of having to harm Jim was now terribly real. “…the man you know as your Captain doesn’t exist anymore. Don’t hesitate, or he’ll take you down.”

He followed the officers out of Kirk’s cabin, pausing momentarily as he slid the door shut. He hoped he would be able to fix whatever was happening—to bring Jim back to him. Maybe then he could be allowed back into these quarters he had made his home.

The door closed.

And McCoy was no closer to an answer.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

 

_“Bridge.”_

The quiet feminine voice of the computer signaled Jim’s arrival. The turbolift doors whooshed open, and he was immediately greeted with surprised looks.

“Captain, it is a surprise to see you on your day off.” Spock rose from the central chair.

Jim didn’t even acknowledge him. Instead, he headed straight for one of the consoles along the side of the area and, with a few flicks of his fingertips, had locked the bridge down. The lights immediately dimmed, red backlighting glowing from underneath the workstations and behind the bulkheads.

The bridge crew immediately looked silently to Spock for answers.

The First Officer raised an eyebrow, staring Kirk down. “Captain, you have activated the bridge failsafe mechanism. Is there a threat?”

Jim nonchalantly moved past the science station towards Uhura, never uttering a word. Without batting an eyelash, he grabbed her by the waist and dragged her from her seat, the phaser pressed against her temple.

“What do you think, _Mister Spock?_ ”

Spock made a movement towards them, but immediately backed up when Kirk pulled Uhura back against his body and ground the tip of the weapon into her skin. She whimpered, her eyes pleading for someone to help her.

Kirk leaned in and sucked Uhura’s ear lobe into his mouth. She screwed her eyes shut tightly as he moved his free hand down to fondle her breast. After a long moment—as horrified crew members looked on—he finally spoke. His voice was low and seductive.

“I think we should fuck right here—before I kill you.” He forced her around and bent her over her console, all the while keeping the phaser planted firmly in her hairline. “That way Spock can see what a real man looks like.”

Taking a moment when Kirk’s back was turned, Spock quietly alerted security via a small nearly invisible button on the arm of the Captain’s chair. Sulu began to move from his seat, but Spock waved him off with a covert flick of his wrist.

Kirk leaned over Uhura, grinding himself into her thigh. “Wouldn’t you like to give all these poor bastards a show? Give them something nice to think about before I blow all their brains out.”

“Captain, you are obviously troubled by something. I advise that you release the Lieutenant, and we can attempt to discuss the situation rationally.”

“Oh sure, I’m just going to let her go so you can tackle me?” Kirk huffed in annoyance. He wrenched Uhura back into a standing position. “Let’s see you try it. I’ll blast a hole right through her head before you even take a step.”

The crewmembers were stunned by their Captain’s behavior. They all sat silently, watching as their Communications Chief was assaulted by Kirk. He snaked a hand up her dress as he slipped his tongue into her ear. A gravelly moan bubbled from his throat. “Goddamn, Nyota. All those years at the Academy, and after Khan—when you spent so much time visiting me in the hospital—you led me on.”

She tried to reason with him. “Led you on? I never meant anything like that. Captain— _Jim_ —you don’t have to do this.” Her voice trembled. “Let us help you. Whatever you’re trying to fight…you’re not alone.”

Jim laughed heartily. “Help me? Why would I need help?” His smile immediately turned into a sinister sneer, and he forced the phaser into her temple again. “You wouldn’t give me the time of day for years, and all of a sudden you want to be besties? You think I’m going to sit and pour my soul out to you just because you asked me to? You had your chance and you blew it to hell. And now I’m going to show you what happens when someone crosses me.”

“Captain, I assure you the Lieutenant means no harm. She is concerned, as we all are. Let her go and we can resolve this problem without violence.”

“You know, Spock, you’re starting to piss me off.” Jim moved the phaser just long enough to fire a warning shot past the Vulcan’s head. It hit a display screen, sparks flying and smoke rising from the newly-made hole. The Captain replaced the weapon at Uhura’s temple. “Now, do you still want to play this game?”

“Captain, I suggest that you stand down. Security will be here momentarily and they will not hesitate to use force if they feel you are a threat to the safety of the crew.”

Kirk snapped. “Security? You backstabbing bastard!” He pulled Uhura close to his body, his face red with rage. The phaser shook in his hands. “You think I’m going to bow down to a bunch of kids with guns? I’d like to see them try and take me down!”

Uhura trembled in his grasp. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Jim, please let me go. I know that we can work through this. I want to help.”

“Oh, we’ll work through this alright.” Kirk smirked as he leaned in and inhaled deeply at her hairline. “You’ll ‘work’ just fine bent over my kitchen counter.”

“Sexually assaulting the Lieutenant will accomplish nothing, Sir.” Spock slowly inched closer to the pair. “We will be forced to incarcerate you.”

Kirk rolled his eyes and pointed the phaser at his First Officer tauntingly. “Oooh, I’m really scared, Spock. And besides, it would accomplish plenty. I mean, it would be a waste not to enjoy her before I kill her.”

Chekov jumped from his seat and lunged forward. “Keptin, please stop zis!”

Kirk recoiled back and yanked his captive towards the turbolift. “Get away from me, Chekov!”

The entire bridge gasped as the phaser in Jim’s hand fired, hitting the young Ensign in the abdomen. Chekov’s eyes bulged as the blast hit him, a choked gasp spurting from his lips. He clutched his stomach as he crumpled to the ground at Sulu’s feet. The Helmsman immediately dropped to his side, frantically surveying his injury.

Kirk squeezed Uhura tight against himself as he brought the hand holding the phaser up to his face. He pressed his white knuckles into his eye. His breathing was coming in short gasps, his expression a mix of terror and sadness. “You made this happen! All of you!”

Uhura cried in his arms, yelping as he replaced the weapon at her temple. “Jim, you’re scaring me! Please let me go so we can end this…peacefully.” She looked to Spock, not bothering to hide the fear in her eyes.

Kirk gritted his teeth and reached behind himself, disabling the bridge failsafe. The lights returned to normal and he activated the turbolift. He pulled Uhura into the elevator with him, screaming as the doors slid shut. “If you follow me, she dies!”

Spock immediately moved to the Captain’s chair and activated a ship-wide comm channel. “Attention crew, there has been an emergency situation on the bridge. Captain Kirk has taken a hostage and is armed and considered dangerous. Do not attempt to intercept or interfere. Remain in your quarters or at your stations until the all-clear is given.”

The Vulcan then rushed to Sulu’s side, Chekov lying limply in his lap. Sulu held one hand over the wound in the young Navigator’s belly, the other on his shoulder trying his best to comfort.

“Is the injury critical, Lieutenant?”

“Looks that way, Sir.” Sulu’s face was creased with worry lines as he looked down at his friend in his lap.

Chekov breathed raggedly, his voice wispy and weak. “Ze Keptin…vy did he...” His eyes fluttered shut as he fell unconscious.

Spock activated the comm on Sulu’s console. “Sick Bay, this is the bridge. Alert Doctor McCoy and prepare yourselves for an incoming trauma.”

_“Are you in need of a medical team?”_

Sulu steeled his expression and lifted both himself and Chekov off the ground in one fluid movement. He moved towards the turbolift and answered as he stepped inside. “I’m bringing him down now. We can’t waste any time waiting for you.”

_“Very well. Nature of the injury?”_

Spock replied, watching as the lift doors closed and the officers disappeared. “Phaser shot to the lower abdomen. Patient has lost consciousness.”

_“Who is it?”_

“Ensign Chekov.”

_“Aye, Sir. We’ll be ready and waiting for him.”_

He closed the channel and stood motionless for a long moment, every single pair of eyes glued to him, wondering what had just happened.

 

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

_“Attention crew, there has been an emergency situation on the bridge. Captain Kirk has taken a hostage and is armed and considered dangerous. Do not attempt to intercept or interfere. Remain in your quarters or at your stations until the all-clear is given.”_

McCoy nearly threw up in the corridor.

He didn’t know what to do. He knew in the back of his mind whatever Jim was going through—what his insane mind was thinking—he wasn’t going to be able to talk him down from. For the first time since this all happened, McCoy actually felt like he had lost Kirk.

And that thought terrified him.

The security team with him stopped dead in their tracks. They had been moving towards the ship’s workout room when the announcement came through. They all stared at the Doctor, as if looking for their next orders, then swiftly turned their heads as the turbolift door at the end of the corridor whooshed open.

Kirk and Uhura flew out of the lift—the latter being dragged forcefully by her Captain—and immediately began running down a side hall. McCoy didn’t even think and took off after them, completely ignoring Spock’s previous warning.

In that moment, he wasn’t worried about the imminent threat to his life had Kirk decided to take aim. All he cared about was catching up with his friend and trying to reason with him—and save Uhura. Because he knew enough about mental illness to know that she was in incredible danger.

“Jim! Don’t do this!” His voice boomed over the sound of frantic footsteps on the polished floor.

The security team was hot on his heels, rounding the corner with the Doctor just in time to almost be hit by a volley of phaser blasts. Jim stood unwavering at the end of the corridor, firing with determination at the group. They ducked, one of the officers pulling McCoy down with incredible force and shielding him with his own body. The young man readied his weapon and aimed.

“Dammit, stand down!” McCoy grabbed at his arm and yanked before the Lieutenant could fire.

“But Sir, the Captain is actively engaging us!” The officer was shocked at McCoy’s reaction.

McCoy scrambled away from him and scurried across the hallway junction, taking cover on the other side. He moved, a shot nearly missing him as he exposed himself. He pressed his back against the bulkhead and tried to think.

“No one fires on him, got it?” McCoy rifled through his Med Kit quickly, pulling out a hypospray loaded with an extremely powerful sedative. He didn’t know just how he was going to get close enough to the deranged Captain to deliver the felling dose, but he felt a small bit better just knowing he had access to it.

_Jim, why are you doing this?_

_They’ll kill you if you don’t stop._

_Gotta figure out some way to calm you down._

_This is all my fault…_

The officers arranged themselves in a tactical formation in the surrounding alcoves of the hallway. One of them poked his head around the corner to take survey of the area and situation. “Doctor, Lieutenant Uhura seems unharmed. The Captain is armed with a standard-issue phaser pistol. I can shoot it out of his ha—“

“You’ll do no such thing!” McCoy clenched his fist around the hypo in his hand. “If any one of you so much as puts your finger on the trigger, I’ll have your ass demoted faster than an Orion whore spreading the Clap!”

Another bolt blasted a communications panel across the junction from him. He peeked his head around the corner, catching a glimpse of a terrified Uhura, being manhandled by a completely maniacal Kirk. His eyes were hollow, mouth twisted in a sinister sneer. His shots were precise—and McCoy felt that if given the opportunity, Jim wouldn’t hesitate to blow his head clean off.

“Jim! Listen to me!” McCoy screamed over the electronic whine of the phaser shots. “Drop the weapon and let Uhura go!”

Kirk laughed from the end of the hallway. “No way, _Doctor!_ This is way too much fun!”

“Dammit, Jim! Don’t make me give the fire order! Let’s try and talk about this!”

A phaser shot hit the wall right next to McCoy’s shoulder. The Doctor recoiled and moved himself away from the edge. He knew that there was no way he could let Jim run wild like this any longer. He’d have to authorize the officers to fire on their own Captain.

_I’m sorry, Jim._

_I can’t let you keep this up._

McCoy’s comm beeped. He huffed angrily and answered the call. “This is not a good time, dammit!”

_“Doctor, a trauma patient is being brought into Medical. We need you right away.”_

“Trauma? What kind? From where?” McCoy tried not to shake. He feared the response he knew was coming. Another blast whizzed past his arm and struck one of the security officers in the leg. He couldn’t believe when the young man seemed to completely brush it off and keep his steady aim on Kirk.

_“Phaser wound, Sir. Incoming from the bridge.”_

_The bridge._

_Oh God, Jim._

_What have you done?_

_I can’t save you now…_

“I’m a little busy getting shot at right now! Have M’Benga prep and I’ll be there as soon as I can!”

_“Aye, Si-“_

The communicator exploded in his hand as it was hit by an extremely accurate shot. He could hear Jim taunting him from the end of the hall and knew that he had been seconds away from being struck himself. Kirk had purposely hit the device.

“Tsk, tsk, Doctor McCoy! Don’t you know it’s rude to take a call when you’re playing with a friend?”

“Jim, goddammit, listen to me! If you don’t surrender I’m going to have to let these guys fire on you!” He tossed the smoldering husk of his dead communicator aside. “They’re not going to miss!”

The phaser shots stopped. The corridor was silent, save for Uhura’s whimperings as Jim held her too tightly. McCoy could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. He tried to decide whether or not to poke his head around the corner. He had a bad feeling that minute he did, Jim would scalp him with his excellent aim. There was no way Kirk was going to give up that easily—or even at all. Taking a quick cleansing breath to calm his nerves, he dared to look down the hallway. McCoy pressed himself flush against the wall and gingerly tried to peer around the corner.

The minute he did, a searing shot of plasma rocketed past him, narrowly missing the top of his head. He quickly moved back to his original hiding position and swore under his breath. He looked to the officers accompanying him with sorrow-filled eyes, then down at his own hands, trembling in his lap.

“Take him down.”

The officers nodded and regrouped, moving into striking positions. McCoy knew it would be over in a matter of seconds. Then all he had to do was walk down the hall and stand over the unconscious form of his best friend—stunned into oblivion.

And then take him to the brig.

“Sir, he ran with the Lieutenant!”

McCoy snapped himself out of his thoughts as the officers took off after Kirk. He hastily grabbed his Med Kit, spilling the contents onto the floor. He grumbled at the mess and left it where it was. Running at full speed down the corridor, he rounded the corner just in time to see Jim pull Uhura into another elevator.

Kirk had stared at him as the doors closed, malice burning like a dark fire in his eyes.

When they got to the lift, it was locked out.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

The first thing Nyota noticed upon being shoved into Kirk’s cabin was the utter disaster area that greeted her. Furniture had been overturned and there was shattered glass littering the carpet. Her palms pressed into the shards as she scrambled away from Kirk on her hands and knees. She backed herself into the corner of the living room and watched as the Captain locked the door.

She knew she was trapped.

He turned to her, phaser still in his hand, and stared her down. There was no life in his eyes, no sign that the man they once knew and loved was still present. There was only darkness. A sneering madman, lusting after her with his eyes as he tracked them up and down her body.

Uhura pressed herself further back into the wall only to find that she couldn’t move any further. She tried to move to the side, but Jim was on her in a heartbeat, yanking her into a standing position. He ghosted his lips against her temple.

“Now that we’re alone, we can get down to business.”

She stiffened in his grip, trying desperately to move her head away from his mouth. But her actions just made him pull harder and before she knew it she had been shoved to the ground once more and was being pinned by his muscular weight. He planted the phaser at the junction of her shoulder and neck. Kirk straddled her prone form as she tried to kick him off of her, but she was no match for his strength. He leaned in close and began to nuzzle his face into her chest. “You smell so good, Nyota. I can’t wait to taste you…”

As he moved down her body, she feverishly tried to wriggle away from him, managing to make contact with his groin with one of her knees. This only elicited a chuckle from him, and made him press his body closer to hers.

“Didn’t even hurt, baby.”

He began to trail harsh kisses up her throat and along her jawline. Using his strength to keep her pressed to the ground, he was able to use his free hand to card his fingers through her hair, pulling out the pony-tail and letting the strands fall loose at her shoulders. Uhura could feel his excitement pressing against her thigh.

And there was no escape.

She felt his hot breath in her ear, whispering about all the dirty things he planned to do to her. He planned to claim her for his own, mark her for life. He wanted to make sure everyone knew she belonged to him.

As his tongue began to trace a line down the other side of her throat to her dipping collar, she tried once more to throw him off of her, with no success. He was just too strong—and too determined.

The hand that had been in her hair moved down her body, stopping briefly at her breast before it found its new home under her skirt. Uhura clenched her knees together as best she could, trying to lock out the invasion. Kirk just smirked and used his leg to force her thighs apart.

“Naughty, naughty, Nyota. Trying to stop what you obviously want.”

She tried to reason with him. “Jim, please don’t do this. I know that you’re not in control. Whatever you’re dealing with—let me help you.”

Kirk clenched his teeth and glowered at her. His voice took on a sinister undertone. “I. Don’t. Need. Your. Help.”

“This isn’t you. Something isn’t right, and you need to let us find out what it is.”

She felt the sting of his hand on her cheek seconds later. He fumed, face and ears turning bright red. Sweat droplets ran down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. “You’re going to regret fucking with me, Nyota.”

She braced herself for the assault she knew was coming and was powerless to stop. She felt Kirk reach down between their bodies and unclasp his pants. As he started to release himself from the fabric, he stiffened and let out a pained scream, rolling off of her.

He knelt on the floor, holding his hands over his ears, shaking his head violently from side to side. He dug his fingertips into his hairline, his eyes screwed shut tightly.

“Get out of my head!”

Taking the opportunity to get away from him while he was distracted, Nyota ran to the door and frantically tried to unlock it. The access panel croaked as it denied her. She stared at the statistics of the most intricate security protocol she had ever seen. She knew she wouldn’t be able to crack it in the seconds she figured she had before Kirk came at her again. She wasn’t even sure someone like Scotty could do it. It was no secret that their Captain was a genius, and she didn’t put anything past him. After all, someone who managed to install a foreign sub-routine into the Academy’s Kobayashi Maru test was more than capable of locking out a security system.

She knew her only option was to stay with the Captain.

Maybe she could get through to him.

Jim’s cries of pain prompted her to turn abruptly back towards him, just in time for her to see him put the phaser to his temple.

 


	7. Chapter Seven

Dissociation: Chapter Seven

“Just get the fuck out of my head!”

Uhura watched in horror as her Captain—her friend—pressed the weapon into his temple. His eyes were filled with unbridled terror, his voice cracking and weak. She wanted to help, but had absolutely no idea how. Fear that any move she made would result in something terrible happening kept her at bay. Instead, her eyes were glued to the phaser, hoping against hope that he didn’t pull the trigger.

“Leave me alone!” A tear squeezed out of Jim’s eye, dripping down his flushed cheek. He shook in his kneeling position, the trembling making his breaths come in uneven gasps. He grimaced as he ground the tip of the weapon into his flesh.

Nyota hated seeing him this way. Jim was a strong man—sure of himself and brave. And _whatever_ was before her was a shell of the man she had come to call a true friend. A long moment went by as she wrestled with herself on what to do. Everything in her brain—all her training—screamed at her to get the weapon out of his hand and subdue him. And that would have worked on any normal man. She knew she was petite, but that demure stature hid a dangerous secret: she could kick any man’s ass any day.

But this situation was different. Even without Khan’s blood coursing through Jim’s veins, he would have been a worthy sparring partner. The addition of the Augment blood to the mix made everything that much more dangerous. Uhura would have to be very careful—if she even attempted an attack—or Kirk would kill her in a heartbeat.

That she was sure of.

And she had never been more afraid in all of her life.

Uhura slowly inched towards him, keeping a watchful eye on his trigger finger. His own eyes were still twisted tightly shut, giving her—hopefully—the element of surprise.

Jim whimpered in front of her, his voice as quiet and meek as a frightened child’s. “Please just let me go…I don’t want this anymore…”

Nyota’s breath hitched in her chest at Kirk’s words. He sounded so broken, so utterly defeated.

“I can’t fight this much longer…”

She crept up on him, moving around his back. She knew it was now or never, and she would only have one shot at knocking the phaser from his hands. Steeling herself, Uhura took a deep breath and cocked her arm back.

The weapon clattered to the floor, Jim falling backwards onto his rear end. He immediately collapsed onto his side and curled up into the fetal position. Uhura quickly kicked the weapon underneath the coffee table before gingerly approaching Kirk.

“Jim?” She slowly held out a trembling hand, laying it on the small of his back seconds later. “Jim, can you hear me?”

He pulled his legs up closer to his body, rolling into a tight ball. Jim shook as he sobbed. “Oh God, Uhura…what did I do? You need to get out of here before I…”

“Shhhh, Jim. We’re going to get through this.” She ran her fingers through his sweaty hair. “I need you to tell me the override code for the door, okay? Then we can get you some help.”

He whimpered, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Kirk four…six…epsilon…”

Uhura got up and began entering the sequence. She scowled and swore under her breath when it wasn’t enough numbers.

“…nine…nine…”

Her fingers moved again on the keypad as she heard rustling behind her, accompanied by a pained grunt.

“delta…what the fuck do you think you’re trying to do, hmmmm?”

Seconds later Jim’s hand was around her mouth, his body pressed up against her. Her own body went rigid with fear.

“You know, Nyota, I’m really sick of all your bullshit.” He yanked her sideways and threw her across the room. Her head knocked into one of the shelves as she impacted with the wall, blood immediately starting to trickle from the new wound.

_The phaser…_

_If I can grab it…_

“Captain, please listen to me. You need help. And you can’t get it locked in here.” She held her hands up submissively.

Kirk’s eyes burned with malice. He watched her intently, smirking. “Help? For what? I’ve never felt more alive!” He slapped his palms on his chest and took a deep breath before exhaling loudly. “I’m in the prime of my life, commanding the greatest ship in the fleet and I have a gorgeous woman here with me in my cabin. What could I possibly need help with?”

“Khan’s blood is doing something to you. You need to let us help.”

Jim bellowed out a great laugh. “Everyone keeps saying that this blood has cursed me. But they don’t know jack shit. I’ve never felt so strong in my life.” He began to move towards her, his voice lowering to a seductive growl. “And it makes me harder than ever, if you catch my drift. Why don’t you let me show you, huh?”

_Go!_

_Grab it before he gets to you!_

Nyota never answered him, instead made a great leap at the table. She crashed into it, jamming her shoulder into one of the corners. Ignoring the pain, she grabbed the phaser and set it to kill.

“Don’t come any closer to me!” Her hands shook as she kept the weapon trained on her Captain. “Don’t make me kill you, Jim!”

He started to move forward, but she steeled herself and pushed her arms out as far as they would go, the phaser’s core glowing red.

“I mean it! I’ll pull the trigger if you take one more step!”

Jim snorted and put his hands up. “If you think I’m going to tell you the door code, you’re crazy.”

Uhura swallowed hard. “Well then, I guess we don’t have anything better to do than sit and talk.”

 

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX

“If you think you’re dyin’ on me today, kid, you’ve got another thing comin’!”

Leonard McCoy growled behind his surgical mask, hands deep within Chekov’s abdomen. He watched as the young man’s vitals fluctuated on the monitor screens. If his blood pressure wasn’t dropping, his heart rate was—and they were both problems McCoy didn’t need to add to the growing list of issues.

“Let’s get some Dopamine into him, his heartbeat’s not strong enough.” An attending nurse wiped his brow with a cloth. “And make sure his urine output doesn’t dip below fifteen milliliters per hour. Run in an extra bag of saline so he doesn’t dehydrate.”

The attending nurses busied themselves with his orders while he feverishly worked to locate one of a dozen bleeding or hastily cauterized blood vessels. And if the hemorrhaging wasn’t enough, his temperature was rising, the hallmark of a brewing infection. An alarm blared, and his head immediately snapped up to the screen above the bed where McCoy was greeted with an oxygen level warning. The kid’s lungs were failing.

“Flood the respiratory field with oxygen; we’ve got to keep his lungs going.” He kept his fingers clamped tightly on the large artery in Chekov’s gut as he watched the screen intently. One of the nurses raised the flow of oxygen going into the Ensign’s body and within moments, the display leveled off. McCoy was relived he wouldn’t have to use Tri-Ox. He hesitated in putting any more drugs into the kid’s already weakened system.

Satisfied that the respiratory problem had been dealt with, he delved deeper, trying to locate and repair the multitude of injuries the phaser shot had caused. McCoy used his fingers to pull the layers of muscle and fat apart, allowing him to continue his work. He grumbled as he came across yet another oozing hole.

“M’Benga, hold that regenerator against that vessel right there and don’t move it until the little bastard stops bleeding.” He tapped his finger against the offending vein. “I’m going to try and make some sense out of this char pattern left by the phaser bolt. ‘Clean hitting weapon’ my ass.”

He dug in again, running his gloved fingers over a burned portion of the Ensign’s kidney. The singeing was substantial, but the Doctor was confident—after a few moments of inspection—that the damage could be dealt with. He held his hand out, and without having to even ask, a nurse placed a small regenerator unit in his palm.

They worked for what seemed like hours, meticulously moving from wound to wound, making sure to leave nothing more than repaired tissue and pink organs in their wake. As they came upon one of the last areas to be fixed, the panel on the wall beeped, eliciting a growl from an already irritated McCoy. He didn’t need another distraction.

One of the nurses quickly activated it. Spock’s voice filtered through the air, over the din of chirping monitors and machinery. “Doctor, I am sorry to interrupt, but we will require your assistance in our staff meeting.”

Never looking up from the Ensign’s bleeding abdominal cavity, he grumbled a stern response. “Well, you’re just going to have to hold your Vulcan ass for a while. Chekov’s not out of the woods yet.” He could almost picture the man on the other end trying to decide how to grip his posterior—while trying to figure out why the Doctor would want him to in the first place. If his hands weren’t slipping around in Chekov’s body, he might actually have found the image amusing.

“Please report to the Deck Two conference room as soon as possible. We have not had contact with the Captain other than cabin scans since the incident and would benefit from your medical and psychological opinion.”

“Bust in there and take him down! Doctor’s orders!” McCoy couldn’t believe the words that had just escaped his lips. But, after seeing the malevolence in Kirk’s eyes and hearing the sinister tone in his voice during the firefight in the corridor, he knew they couldn’t be picky anymore in how they approached him. Jim needed to be stopped—by any means necessary.

“Doctor, I believe it is inappropriate to discuss this matter over public channels. I will keep you abreast of any changes in the situation until you are able to attend. Please attempt to finish quickly.”

“Don’t rush me, dammit! You want a dead Navigator on your record?” The entire surgical staff stopped for a moment and stared at him. He knew his comment must have sounded harsh, but he was serious. One wrong move and Chekov would be returning to Earth in a body bag. And that was something neither he nor Jim needed on their collective conscience.

“I do not wish that, Doctor. Please continue and join us when you are finished.”

The communique ended and the procedure continued. McCoy never faltered, despite the unwanted interruption. He pressed on, making damn sure he removed every bit of damaged tissue and sealed every bleeder before he closed the incision.

He might be well on his way to losing Jim, but he’d be damned if he was going to lose Chekov too.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX

 

 

McCoy rushed through the corridors of the _Enterprise_ , crewmembers purposefully moving out of his way as he made his way to the turbolift. They knew he meant business—whether it was from the stern set of his jaw or the clenched fists at his side. Whatever it was, they all made damn sure they were well out of range as he flew past them.

Relieved not to have to share the lift with another passenger, he activated it, listening to the calming hum of the electromagnetic motors moving the cabin. His thoughts wandered as the sound mesmerized him.

Jim had been out of control in the corridor.

His eyes had been lifeless—while Uhura’s had been filled with terror. He had stared at the Doctor blankly for a second as he ran from the security team. And yet, McCoy could do nothing to stop him. Leonard knew that Jim had been beyond saving at that point, no matter how hard he tried to deny it.

He could still hear his own voice screaming at Jim to let Uhura go, to surrender—and finally giving the order to take him down. He could still taste the vomit that had crept up his throat as Jim ran with the Lieutenant once more.

McCoy leaned his head on the cool metallic wall of the lift and briefly closed his eyes.

_“Jim, don’t do this!”_

_“Drop the weapon and let Uhura go!”_

_“If you don’t surrender I’m going to have to let these guys fire on you!”_

Nothing had registered with the raging Captain, and now McCoy was on his way to a meeting to discuss what they were going to have to do with him. He knew what needed to happen—even if he didn’t want to acknowledge it.

Jim would eventually be taken down. They’d put him in the brig and bring him back to Earth. He’d be isolated under medical supervision in a secured ward until he was deemed fit to stand trial for his crimes.

And they’d take the _Enterprise_ away from him.

McCoy knew that Jim would rather die than be without his command. He remembered back to the weeks just after Kirk had come back from death, when San Francisco was in the midst of a re-build, as was Starfleet. There had been talk—very briefly—about Jim’s ability to command after such an extreme medical situation. They had been concerned that he wouldn’t be able to recover physically. Leonard remembered the terrified look on Jim’s face when the Admiralty suggested that he retire his Captaincy and take a teaching position at the Academy.

And how did Jim react? He forced himself out of his hospital bed and walked unassisted—for the first time—down the hallway, his bare ass hanging out of the back of his open hospital gown. The flabbergasted look on Admiral James’ face was all the answer Kirk needed. There had been no further discussion about him giving up his chair, and Jim had passed all his medical and psychological exams with flying colors.

Leonard wished it could be that simple this time.

The turbolift stopped and McCoy’s eyes snapped open. He blew out a long breath as he exited and made his way to the conference room. The halls seemed emptier than usual, even though they were bustling with activity.

_Maybe it’s because I know Jim’s not laughing somewhere._

_Maybe it’s because I’m going to a meeting where we’ll be talking about dooming him to a life of incarceration._

_Maybe it’s because…_

_…it’s my fault._

He thumbed the panel to the meeting room and the door slid open, all eyes immediately trained on him. He was shocked to see Carol, but then it dawned on him that she had a right to be there, just as any of the senior crew did. Those that were conscious and not being held hostage, that is. He straightened his tunic and moved for the closest available seat, which—thankfully—was at the far end of the table. He slumped down into it with a sigh.

“Doctor, thank you for joining us. What is Ensign Chekov’s condition?” Spock sat at the other end in a large, comfortable chair.

_Jim’s chair._

_Get out of it._

“He’s stable. I think he’ll be okay, but he’s going to need a while to recover.” He eyed the replicator wearily, wishing that he had a cup of coffee in his hands. But he was just too damn tired to get up and get one.

“Thank you for the update, Doctor. Your hard work does not go unappreciated.”

McCoy just grumbled and scrubbed his hand over his face.

“Now that the Doctor has arrived, we can begin the meeting.” Spock tapped the tabletop keypad, bringing up the schematics of the ship. He zeroed in on a spot on the blueprint—Jim’s quarters. Two glowing dots appeared on the screen within the outlines of the room. Several more dotted the hallways surrounding the cabin. “Sensor sweeps conducted every sixty seconds show that both the Captain and Lieutenant Uhura are still alive and moving within the stateroom. We have a security team positioned at various intervals in the corridors surrounding them.”

“Any word from them?” McCoy finally succumbed to the need for a caffeinated beverage and rose, activating the panel recessed into the wall. Seconds later, he was sipping hot—albeit awful—coffee. “It’s been over two hours.”

“Negative, Doctor. All attempts to contact them have been met with silence. We are unsure if they have even received the messages.”

He huffed as he sat once again. “Oh, he heard them, alright. He’s ignoring you.”

“What makes you believe so, Doctor?”

“Listen, he might be out of his mind, but he’s no dummy. He’s plotting his next move and all the while he’s probably laughing at your little attempts to get through to him.” He sipped his coffee. “And it won’t work.”

Spock pursed his lips. “In light of recent events, I feel that it is necessary to share the Captain’s medical information with the senior members of the crew that are present.”

McCoy’s eyes saddened. He didn’t want to, but they all needed to be up to speed. He just felt horrible for airing Jim’s dirty laundry around a board room table.

“I hate to break doctor-patient confidentiality, but you’re right.” He set his mug down and keyed his clearance code into the computer link-up on the tabletop. Moments later, he had brought up Jim’s medical records—and all the research he and M’Benga had accomplished since this had all started. He chose his files carefully, only allowing those without sensitive information to be shown on the main screen. An image of a blood culture appeared, the crew staring intently at it.

“This is an enzyme that we discovered within the Captain’s blood. It’s nothing we’ve ever seen before. M’Benga and I are confident that it has something to do with Khan’s blood being transfused into him last year.” He brought up another file, this time a brain scan. “A few months ago, Captain Kirk began complaining of nightmares and panic attacks. After the _incident_ in the gymnasium last month…”

Sulu’s shoulders slumped at the mention. McCoy knew he had been struggling with the aftermath of watching his Captain attack the ship’s CMO. Sulu had asked for a referral to the ship’s counselor personally.

“…we ran comprehensive scans and bloodwork. We found that the enzyme had begun to attach itself to the Captain’s brain tissue and cells, causing temporary psychosis. Doctor M’Benga was able to derive a serum to counteract the little bastard. It worked…for a while.”

He licked his dry lips, trying to quell the bubbling in his stomach.

_Damn replicated coffee._

_…damn this whole situation._

“We knew it was only a temporary fix, but it definitely didn’t last as long as we had hoped. Obviously, it’s not working at all anymore.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve diagnosed Captain Kirk with Dissociative Identity Disorder.”

“You’ll have to speak Standard, laddie! I cannae understand your medical jargon!”

“In layman’s terms, Mister Scott, he’s got multiple personalities.” He swallowed hard. He felt like such a tool betraying Jim like this. “There’s another Jim Kirk living in there with him, and he’s a psychopath.”

The table was silent. Carol held a hand over her mouth, her head sunk between her shoulders. Her body trembled slightly as she quietly cried.

“He’s a raging lunatic; suffering from dementia, visions and bouts of extreme anger. He’s verbally assaulted several crew members and…” He looked to Doctor Marcus, their eyes meeting. Hers were glistening with tears. She nodded gently, granting him permission to tell the crew about her attack. “…sexually assaulted one more. The addition of Khan’s blood to his system has given him greater strength and vitality than he ever had before. That coupled with his existing genius-level brain, and we’re looking at a very dangerous foe.”

McCoy stared at the photo of Jim accompanying the medical file. He looked so normal, a small childish smile crossing his lips, his blue eyes sparkling with life. And now he was being hunted like an animal.

“This guy—this other Kirk—he’s taken over. I believe that the man we know and respect—and love…” He sighed heavily. “…is far away. He’s been pushed deep into their brain. And we all need to work together if we’re going to get him back.”

“We’ll do anything, Doctor.” Sulu’s face was stern, his voice eager and motivated. “You saved Chekov, and we are all confident that you can save our Captain.”

_Confident?_

_I did this to him._

_I don’t know what the hell I’m doing._

_I’m flying by the seat of my pants._

He thought for a long moment before finally responding. “In a perfect world, I’d want him in Sick Bay. But I know that’s not possible. He needs to be in the brig, where he won’t hurt anyone.” McCoy couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. He was really going imprison his best friend. “First things first, we need to get Uhura safely away from him. Then we can work on getting him into the brig. If he can be subdued, I can administer a very powerful sedative that’ll have him on the ground in less than two seconds.”

“But how do we get to them? He said if anyone tried to come near them, he’d kill her.” Sulu was obviously concerned. He tapped his fingers nervously on the tabletop.

“Sir, I think I might be able to override the door.” Scotty actually looked hopeful, a far cry from anyone else around the table. “I’m sure he’s installed a stiff lockout, but no one knows this ship like I do. She’ll let me tinker with her naughty bits, I guarantee it.”

“But what happens when we get the door open? I don’t think he’ll like it.” Sulu shook his head as he offered a suggestion. “Maybe if we flood his cabin with a nerve toxin, he’ll be out of commission when we break the security lockout. I mean, it’ll render Uhura unconscious too, but at least we’d be able to get to the Captain. ”

“No way.” McCoy immediately shot him down. “It’s too risky. With Khan’s blood cells wreaking havoc with Jim’s system he’s got strength and resistance that no normal human should have. You’d have to use such a high concentration to take him down that it would be fatal to Uhura.”

Sulu sighed deeply and looked down at the table. His voice was hushed in defeat. “Damn. Khan’s been gone for over a year and he’s still a thorn in our side. It’s like we can’t get away from him.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” McCoy mumbled, barely audible.

_All those nightmares…_

_The panic attacks…_

_He’s a husk of a man…_

“So, what do we do then? We can’t just leave Uhura in there with him.”

Spock thought for a moment before responding. “Lieutenant Uhura is very gifted regarding convincing people to calm down and talk about their problems. She is the best person to help the Captain at the moment, seeing as that we are unable to gain access to them.”

“What about the ship’s counselor?” Sulu looked hopeful with his suggestion. “I know that Uhura knows him better, but she’s not a professional.”

McCoy shook his head and scowled. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Spock. Jim hasn’t met with the counselor yet, other than to welcome her aboard. Uhura’s a friend, if he’ll be able to trust anyone, it’s her.” He finished his coffee, scowling as the bitter remnants slid down his throat. “We just need to figure out a way to distract him so he doesn’t notice Scotty trying the door. And that’s where I’m out of ideas…”

“Then maybe we can use the nerve toxin after all,” Sulu suggested again. “Not enough to hurt Uhura, but do you think it would distract him long enough for Scotty and the security team to get in there?”

“I just don’t know.” McCoy blew out a long breath. “Khan’s blood cells make everything about Jim unpredictable—screwy enzyme or not. I’ve spent the last year just trying to keep up with all the stuff it’s been doing to him. It’s had good benefits to be sure, but it makes treating him for even minor ailments difficult. I just don’t have enough information to be confident it will affect him at all.”

“I think we should try it. Otherwise I can’t see any other way of getting Uhura away from him.”

McCoy sighed heavily. “Alright. Give me at least thirty minutes to try and come up with a mixture, then I’ll allow you to send it through the air system.”

“It seems that our plan is in order.” Spock’s fingers moved swiftly across the control panel in the table. “Mister Scott, I have sent the diagnostics to the security lockout to your personal PADD. Please begin work at once.”

“Aye, Sir. I’ll have that door open in no time.” Scotty stood and headed for the exit.

“If there is nothing else, I suggest that we resume with normal ship wide activities. In events such as these, studies have shown that keeping a sense of normality helps crewmembers cope better.”

McCoy huffed. “’Events such as these’? Jesus, Spock, no one’s ever experienced anything like this!”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I am aware of that fact, Doctor. However,” he stood and grabbed his PADD from the table. “If we were to all react hastily and—as the Captain would undoubtedly put it—freak out, then we would not only be doing him and the Lieutenant a disservice, but the crew as well.”

McCoy hated it when Spock had a point.

“You know, you really know how to grind a guy’s gears, Spock.” McCoy pursed his lips and rose from the table along with the rest of the senior staff. “If this backfires and he kills her…”

“I understand the risks, Doctor. But, in light of the situation, I feel it is the best course of action to take.” Spock deactivated the holo-image in the middle of the table and shut the system down. “Please inform me when your toxin blend is ready for use.”

McCoy just acknowledged him with a gruff mumble. He watched as the other attendees of the meeting shuffled out of the conference room, Carol lagging behind. She was wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Hey, Carol, wait up for a second.”

She turned to face him, trying to force a small smile. “I guess this is really out of control, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s a real clusterfuck.”

Carol giggled. “Doctor McCoy, are you trying to shock me with foul language in order to get me to laugh?”

“No Ma’am, this really is a clusterfuck.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

Her faint smile faded and her eyes trailed down to her feet. “When that ship-wide broadcast came through—that he had taken a hostage…” She shook her head and sighed. “…I felt like it was all my fault. If I had just said something earl—“

“Now you listen to me, absolutely none of this is your fault. Carol, you were assaulted—by the Captain and your own lover—no less. Whether you had said something or not, chances are something like this still would have happened.” He blew out a long breath. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’m the one that put that shit in his veins in the first place. I didn’t know if it would even work, and I sure as hell didn’t know what it would do to him if it did.” He clenched his hands around his PADD. “I guess we know now, huh?”

Carol moved in close and wrapped her arms around his torso, hugging him tightly. “I’ll never be able to forgive myself if Uhura is harmed, or…” She nuzzled her chin into his chest and began to cry softly.

“You and me both.”

 


	8. Chapter Eight

Dissociation: Chapter Eight

 

                The bridge was abuzz with activity.

Some crew members were going about normal routines, even though the tension in the air was thick as London fog. A technician repaired the workstation that had been damaged by phaser fire, while a replacement sat at Chekov’s console, admirably filling his young shoes.

Everyone seemed to be in limbo—they all did their jobs, but it was very obvious that their minds were elsewhere. Usually, there were polite conversations, quiet murmurings about the matters at hand or small talk. Jim had always allowed it. He wanted the bridge to be a welcoming place, where officers and enlisted alike could share in each other’s everyday lives. His philosophy had been “everyone’s equal and everyone’s got an important job to do.”

And this bridge was a far cry from Kirk’s dream.

No one talked. No one looked at each other. Everyone stayed at their posts, eyes glued to their viewscreen or their own consoles.

Spock sat in the Captain’s chair, stoically taking on the command position until Kirk returned.

_If_ he returned.

The Vulcan hadn’t had time to give the situation much thought, as he was preoccupied with keeping the ship running smoothly, even in a time of chaos and uncertainty. But when he had allowed himself a brief moment of reflection, he had been bothered by what his mind had produced.

After the events of Khan, he and Uhura had been working on getting more in touch with his human emotions. After some reluctance, Spock had ultimately welcomed the exercise and they both had been trying to reach the goal of him being able to express himself without the cushion of logic.

Now, sitting in a chair that did not belong to him and waiting for updates on the condition of his lover, Spock found himself in an unfamiliar position, experiencing something that he was not comfortable with.

His mind was wandering.

_What if Uhura were to be killed?_

_How would he react—feel?_

_What would happen to Jim?_

He was concerned—no, terrified. Nyota was in the clutches of a madman that just one day prior had been a trusted friend. Captain Kirk had ceased to be the honorable man he had worked so hard to become. Now he was the enemy, holding the woman that Spock held most dear on a razor’s edge.

He didn’t want to admit to himself—or anyone—that he was unsure of what to do next.

Yes, his command training and experience led him to follow the proper protocols to ensure that the shipwide systems continued to function acceptably, but nothing in his years at the Academy or out in the black could have prepared him for the emotional deluge that was haunting him.

No one taught him how to calm his nerves.

He had never had to before.

Even when he was watching Jim die in the reactor accessway, he had been unable to decipher what he was feeling. And that—strange as though it may have been—allowed him to keep calm as the life drained from Kirk’s eyes. It was only when Jim had taken his last breath that Spock had allowed himself to feel, letting his cries of anguish echo off the walls of Engineering.

And now he was tormented again.

Months of work with Uhura had given him the ability to access those feelings without the need to squelch them immediately. Even though it had been—and still was—uncomfortable for him, he had pressed on at her insistence. He knew it was important to experience strong sentiments if he were to become more in touch with what his mother had so desperately wanted for him.

He didn’t want to live without Nyota.

He wanted everything to be back to normal.

He didn’t like feeling this rush of emotions as he tried to keep a calm demeanor for the sake of the crew.

He didn’t want them to see his weaknesses.

And so he sat in the chair that represented ultimate power on the _Enterprise_ , wanting nothing more than to be back at his own station.

Uhura, he at least thought, would be proud of him for not trying to push his feelings away.

The comm on the armrest of Jim’s chair beeped, snapping Spock from his thoughts. In an instant, the doubtful, scared half-human was replaced by a cool and collected Vulcan. Clearing his throat, he activated the channel, seeing that it was from Scotty.

“Any progress, Mister Scott? Have you been able to crack the security protocol?”

_“Ach, no! I cannae break the security bug the Captain installed. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before!”_ The disbelief was evident in Scotty’s voice _. “It keeps changin’! Every time I get close to figuring out even a wee bit of the sequence, it flips and flops and puts me back at square one!”_

“Please keep trying. Doctor McCoy is working as fast as he can on the toxin, but it will be useless if we cannot get open the door.”

_“Aye, Sir. I’ll work until my fingers bleed.”_

The comm link went dead.

Spock exhaled deeply and began to enter his hourly log into his PADD.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“Aren’t your pretty little hands getting tired of holding that phaser?” Jim sat back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His lips curled up into a wicked smirk. “I won’t hurt you if you put it down.”

“And what makes you think I’m going to believe you?” Uhura kept the weapon trained on Kirk, pointing it directly at his head.

“You can trust me, Nyota. I might even let ‘him’ out for a while if you give up.”

Uhura’s heart twinged at the mention of ‘him’. She knew Kirk meant Jim—buried deep within their shared mind. In the thirty or so minutes they had spent in their current impasse, she had managed to see hopeful glimmers of what was locked away.

A faint twinkle in his eyes.

When his fierce expression would wane slightly at the mention of Carol.

The way he clenched his jaw ever so often, as if he were fighting some horrible demon within himself.

But, inevitably, Jim would be shut out by this maniac in front of her, not allowed to return.

She was surprised that he hadn’t tried to make a move for her. She hoped it was because her friend was in there somewhere—and not that this monster was trying to wear her down. She shifted her weight and grimaced as her injured shoulder protested. Never letting the phaser drop from its target, she picked up where they had left off before this last silent reprieve.

“You want to try again, Jim?”

Kirk rolled his eyes. “I told you not to call me that. I prefer ‘Captain’.”

“You’re _not_ the Captain.”

“You’ll change your mind about that soon.” Kirk stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing his feet. “What exactly is it that you want to ‘try’?”

“Let me talk to Jim.”

Kirk shook his head. “Nope. Face it, Nyota—he’s gone. He was weak. Too compassionate to run a starship. He let emotions get the better of him. The _Enterprise_ needs a Captain that will use her to her full potential.”

“And what makes you think Starfleet will let you keep the ship?”

“I’ll convince them. I’m their golden boy. I can do whatever I want.”

“I wish you could see the error in your thinking. This isn’t going to end peacefully, Jim.”

Kirk’s expression darkened as he lunged at her. “I thought I just told you not to call me that!”

Nyota recoiled back and kept the phaser aimed at Kirk’s face. “Don’t even think about it! I’ll blow your head off!”

Kirk licked his lips and narrowed his eyes as he slunk back to his original position. “No, I don’t think you would. But…” He sighed as he sat back against the wall once more. “…you can think that if you’d like.”

Uhura decided to switch tactics. Threatening him wasn’t going to work. But maybe appealing to his love for Carol would. It was worth a shot.

“What about Doctor Marcus? Haven’t you thought about how this is affecting her? She loves you.”

“She loves ‘him’. All she is to me is a good fuck. I bet you didn’t know she sucks a mean cock.” He closed his eyes and laid his head back against the wall with an ecstatic groan. “Too bad she’s not here right now. I’ve always wanted to see you two in action together.”

“You’ve hurt her. I’m not even sure she’ll be able to forgive you once you’re cured.”

Jim laughed heartily. “Cured? Oh no, this isn’t something that can be fixed with drugs or shock therapy. Can’t you see, Nyota? I’m finally living up to my full potential. Everyone thought Khan was a madman, but look what he’s given me! I can do anything I want. I can…take anything I want.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed. Those officers outside the door won’t let you leave without a fight.”

Kirk smirked. “Then a fight they shall have.”

The security panel on the door shrieked a warning. Kirk’s eyes bulged as he jumped up to inspect it, seemingly not caring whether or not Uhura fired on him for moving.

She kept the weapon aimed at him as he frantically moved his fingers over the keypad. His back stiffened and he pounded a fist against the wall. The soft voice of the computer wafted through the room.

_“Security access attempted. Designation Scott-four-nine-gamma-six.”_

“Goddammit! He’s almost through!” Jim turned around to face Nyota, eyes flashing with absolute anger. “They’re not taking me!”

Before Uhura could register what was happening, Jim was charging at her. She felt her finger depress the trigger on the phaser and watched as an errantly aimed bolt hit Kirk in the bicep.

He didn’t even flinch.

Jim lunged at her, smacking the weapon out of her hand. In an instant he had armed himself with it. She found herself slammed to the floor seconds later, her head spinning from the sudden impact.

_He’s going to kill me._

_…and they’re going to kill him…_

She was shocked when she wasn’t hit with a lethal phaser blast. For a split second she thought Jim was trying to break through. She almost missed his fingers changing the weapon setting from kill to stun.

_He’s still in there._

_He’s fighting._

Kirk didn’t even give her a second glance as he released the locks on the door and flew out into the corridor.

Uhura heard the phaser shots seconds later.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

McCoy had been on the bridge less than thirty seconds when the frantic call came through from the security team.

_“Lieutenant Clausen to the Bridge! Captain Kirk has fled his quarters and is armed!”_

Spock immediately stiffened in his seat and replied. “Permission granted to fire on the Captain. Ensure that your weapons are set to stun.”

_“Yes, Sir!”_ Unintelligible background yelling was drowned out by gunfire. _“Wait! His phaser is on stun! The bolts are blue!”_

McCoy stepped up next to the Captain’s chair. “Tell them to stand down, Spock! He’s in there, trying to break free—otherwise his weapon would be set to kill. They’re going to egg him on if they keep shooting.”

Spock contemplated McCoy’s suggestion for a quick moment before responding. “Cease firing and give chase. Attempt to steer him away from heavily travelled areas. Doctor McCoy and I will join you momentarily. And Clausen,” he hesitated for a quick moment before continuing. “Is Lieutenant Uhura unharmed?”

_“Yes, Sir. She’s right here. A few bumps and bruises, a superficial cut…but she’s fine.”_

“See to it that she is escorted to Medical for an examination. Spock out.”

Closing the link, he then instructed the replacement communications officer to open a ship-wide channel. The bridge crew sat silently as he gave his instructions.

“Attention Enterprise crew. The ship is on security lockdown. All personnel report to their stations or remain in their quarters, locking the doors. Do not interfere with or attempt any contact with either Captain Kirk or the security team perusing him. Wait until the all-clear is given to commence normal activities.”

He closed the channel and headed for the turbolift, McCoy hot on his heels. He stopped at a bulkhead next to the elevator, and after entering in a key sequence, removed two phaser pistols from the recessed cabinet. He armed them both to stun and offered one to the Doctor.

“No way, Spock.” McCoy shoved it away. “He’s my best friend and Captain; I’m not going to shoot him.”

“Doctor, with all due respect, Captain Kirk more than likely does not share your sentiments.” He offered the phaser once more. “I advise you to take the weapon.”

“Not gonna happen.” McCoy crossed his arms over his chest. “Every minute you waste standing here trying to convince me to shoot Jim is one moment more that he’s wreaking havoc.”

Spock didn’t reply, rather he put the phaser back in the safe and secured it. “Very well, Doctor.”

McCoy followed him into the turbolift and they went to intercept the Captain.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

The moment the two officers stepped out of the turbolift, they were immediately greeted by gunfire and yelling. They separated and darted off to opposite sides of the adjacent hallway. McCoy pressed his back against the wall and tried to calm his nerves.

“Stay back! I’ll blow your fucking heads off!”

McCoy’s heart sunk as Jim’s words echoed off the walls. He wasn’t going to get out of this unscathed.

“Jim! Listen to me! You need to stand down!” The Doctor peered around the corner. “Spock’s not going to hesitate to stun you!”

Jim laughed from the other corridor. “Spock can go to Hell!” Another shot rang out, hitting the lift doors.

“Captain, I advise that you comply. We will not be able to discuss the situation otherwise.”

“You know, I’m sick of this shit.” A ruby red shot whizzed down the hall and hit the bulkhead next to where Spock stood. “That one was a warning!”

The sound of the footsteps of the security officers moving their position forward made McCoy nervous. He knew if they got closer to Jim, he’d fire on them. He decided to do the stupidest thing he’d ever done in his life. Steeling himself and taking a cleansing breath, he held his hands high and took a tentative step into the hallway.

He honestly didn’t know if he’d survive.

“Jim…I’m not going to try anything. I just want to talk to you.”

Kirk stared him down, weapon shaking in his hands. “I don’t ‘talk’ to traitors.”

“Traitor?” McCoy began inching forward down the corridor.

“You’re on Pointy’s side. You all want me dead.”

“Jim, I assure you, I’m not on anyone’s side.” He held his hand out in a friendly gesture. “Why don’t you give me the phaser, huh?”

Kirk laughed loudly and backed away from him. “Fuck off, Bones.”

“You’ve got to trust me. I just want to help.” McCoy swallowed hard. He knew every second that ticked past brought Jim one step closer to a very bad outcome. “If you keep this up, you’re only going to make things worse.”

A red phaser blast hit centimeters from Leonard’s head. He hit the deck, laying himself flat on the floor as he covered his head with his hands. His voice was filled with a mixture of terror and pleading.

“Jim, please! I’m losing you and I don’t know what else to do!”

Kirk just laughed. “You’re pathetic! I’m not going to stick around and let you lecture me.” The Captain fired one last shot down the corridor before he turned tail and ran. The security team immediately chased him.

McCoy sprang to his feet and scrambled after them, Spock hot on his heels.

“Dammit, Jim! I’m done playing your games!”

Kirk never answered him. His feet thumped against the shining floors of the hallway. He turned the corner, and McCoy hoped he didn’t realize where he was heading.

He stopped short, grabbing Spock’s arm as he moved to run past him. “Wait, he’s headed straight for the brig…”

“Are you suggesting that we trap him, Doctor?”

McCoy tried to catch his breath. “If we split up while the guys chase him down that way, we’ll be able to intercept him. That hallway only leads to one place.”

“A most logical observation.”

McCoy rolled his eyes. “You and your goddamn logic. Jim’s running wild and you’re prattling on with your Vulcan mumbo-jumbo.”

Spock cocked an eyebrow. “I was merely…”

“Nevermind. You take Kao and Finnegan and go down that way.” He pointed down the adjacent corridor. “Telarra and I will circle around and meet you there.”

“Agreed, Doctor.” Spock made sure the charge on his phaser was still viable. “Are you sure you do not require a weapon?”

McCoy shook his head with an annoyed grunt. “When we get there, we’ll have to get him into a holding cell somehow. You think if I distract him you can do that damn voodoo pinch?”

“I am unsure of the effectiveness given Captain Kirk’s current mental state.”

“We have to try something. I’ll get his attention and you can grab him.”

“Understood.” Spock and his two companions headed off down the hall.

McCoy grabbed Ensign Telarra and guided her past him. “Don’t fire on him unless I say so, okay?”

“Yes, Sir.” She nodded her head nervously in response.

McCoy could tell she was frightened. She had only been assigned to the ship three weeks back—he had conducted her medical exam himself. With her young age, he was pretty sure she had never seen anything like this before.

They all hadn’t.

“C’mon. We’ve only got one shot at this.”

They ran off down the hall, listening to Jim’s rantings echo off the walls as they moved.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX XxX

 

 

The brig was empty.

Jim ran a tight ship, and his crew always behaved themselves. In fact, the last person to be incarcerated was Khan.

And now, they were moments away from imprisoning their Captain.

McCoy felt like he was going to throw up.

It had been only moments since the last Jim sighting, but Leonard knew they were hot on his tail. And that he had nowhere to go. It was only a matter of time before he was cornered and they would take him into custody.

Hopefully with no casualties.

The Doctor and his young charge had been waiting in the wings, away from the eyes of a certain Captain on a rampage. Carol Marcus cowered behind them, protected from any errant phaser fire. McCoy had called her as a possible distraction—if they needed to get Jim’s attention elsewhere or calm him. It was worth a shot, anyway.

They could hear the commotion coming towards them, however, as the voices in the corridor filtered down the hall and into the cavernous room.

Jim sounded pissed.

_“If you think I won’t shoot you, Spock, you’re wrong!”_

A phaser bolt sounded, apparent that it blew apart a bulkhead by the clattering shrapnel.

Footsteps came closer and in an instant, Jim was bursting into the brig. His expression showed that he immediately knew he had made a tactical mistake.

He was trapped and he knew it.

Wrapping his fingers tightly around the handle of the weapon, he swung his body around wildly, desperately looking for a way out.

Spock and his team barreled through the door a second later, locking it behind them. They all trained their weapons on their maniacal Captain.

Jim had nowhere to run.

He backed himself up against the glass of one of the holding cells, his face flushed with a mixture of anger and desperation. Kirk moved the weapon back and forth between the occupants of the room, taking aim at whoever moved. His finger curled around the trigger, but didn’t depress it.

McCoy took this as a positive sign—as positive as it could be in the mess they were in.

“I swear to God, I’ll kill you all!” His eyes were frantic, lips quivering.

Spock stepped forward, phaser still locked on Kirk. “No, I do not believe you will, Captain. You will gain nothing by firing upon any of us.”

Jim backed away from him and moved to the other door. He reached behind himself and tried to blindly swipe his fingers over the keypad. The door wouldn’t budge, as the brig officers had locked them tight after Spock had entered.

There really was no escape for him.

“Jim, we want to end this peacefully. Please let us—let me—help you.” McCoy’s voice cracked slightly.

“I don’t need your help! Why won’t any of you believe me?” He continued his trek around the outside ring of the room, along the cell windows. The two teams moved in tandem with him, never closing the gaps. It was a macabre dance of drawn weapons and hostile intentions.

Carol squeezed her way around the McCoy and Telarra. The Doctor instinctively tried to push her back with his arm. But she wasn’t having any of it, as she pressed forward, arms raised submissively.

“Jim…it’s time. Please…”

A faint glimmer of the man that was once James T. Kirk flashed for a second. His hands dropped ever so slightly, and that was all the time Spock needed. A second later, the Vulcan was behind Kirk, his fingers clasped tightly at the junction of his neck and shoulder.

Kirk screamed and twisted his body around, trying to get a blow in on Spock. He swung his arms wildly, but his strength was waning. While both the Vulcan and Doctor knew the pinch probably wouldn’t have the same effect on Jim as it had in the past, they were hopeful that it would slow him down enough to get him into one of the cells.

As Kirk tried to attack his First Officer, McCoy motioned to the security officer to open the cell closest to the fray. A small door, recessed and almost invisible beforehand, cracked open and in one fluid motion, Spock shoved the frantic Captain in.

The door closed behind him and Jim flew off the handle.

“You motherfuckers! You can’t keep me in here! I’m the Captain! This is _my ship!_ ” Jim slammed his body over and over again into the glass. Sweat and droplets of blood splattered onto the inside surface. “I’ll have you all court martialed!”

McCoy couldn’t bear to watch. His best friend was throwing himself at prison glass in a total frenzy, and he was powerless to help. And on top of it, he noticed Jim’s arm was bleeding, his shirt sleeve singed from an obvious phaser shot. He approached the window.

“Jim…please calm down.” He placed a hand on the glass, recoiling slightly every time Jim slammed himself into it. McCoy knew it wouldn’t break, but he still jumped back. The sheer strength of the blows was unimaginable.

“Fuck you, McCoy! You think you can do this? Admiral Pike will kick you all off of the ship!”

“Jim…Pike’s…” Leonard’s heart broke. Not only was Kirk frenzied, but he seemed to have no memory of his friend and father-figure’s death. “…Jim, he’s dead. Has been for over a year…”

Kirk stopped crashing into the window. His eyes lost their sinister spark and he slid down the glass, his bloody arm leaving a long streak. Coming to rest on his knees, he thumped his head against the transparent material.

“Dead…”

McCoy followed suit with Jim and sunk to his own knees, placing a palm on the glass where Kirk’s shoulder was. He wished he could be in there with him. To treat—and comfort.

“Jim, are you in there?” He tried to get a look at his eyes, but Kirk’s head was turned away from him.

The young Captain turned his body a moment later, allowing the Doctor to see his face. Tears welled up in his eyes as the severity of his situation took hold of him. “Chekov…oh my God, did I kill him?”

McCoy sighed. “No. But he’s got a long recovery ahead of him.”

Jim’s eyes closed, his breathing still hitched and labored from exertion. “Uhura?”

“She’s safe.”

“I tried to…”

“Jim don’t talk right now, alright? I need to get a baseline reading on you.” McCoy grabbed for the Tricorder Lieutenant Kao had held out. He scowled when the device had a hard time scanning Kirk through the glass. He was only getting partial results.

Kirk began to sob. “Jesus, Bones…I really fucked up. I’m…really scared…”

“I know, kid. But you need to calm down. You’re liable to send yourself into arrest if you don’t get a grip. Your vitals are all over the place.” He craned his neck to get a better look at Jim’s arm. “What’s that from? Phaser?”

“Uhura shot me. I…deserved it.”

“I need to get in there and treat you. I can’t have you bleeding to death.”

Spock approached them. “Doctor, that would be unwise. Captain Kirk’s mental state is not yet completely understood. You would be putting yourself in considerable and unnecessary danger.”

Kirk’s breathy voice was muffled somewhat by the glass. “He’s right, Bones. I can’t trust myself not to attack you. You saw what I did to Chekov.”

“I don’t give a damn. You’re really hurt.”

Jim flashed a wry smile. “I’ll be fine in a couple hours, you’ll see. Super-blood, remember?” He tried to stand.

“Don’t get up.” McCoy clenched his jaw as he watched Kirk struggle. He hated seeing him this way—weak and out of control. Well, he seemed a little in control right now, but that was all relative. He knew at any moment his friend could fly into rage again and hurt himself—or them.

Jim steadied himself on the glass wall, pushing his weary body up along it. He grimaced in pain as the weight was obviously too much for him. He slid down again, landing on his rear end with a grunt. His head slumped to the side as he passed out.

McCoy had never been so grateful for an unconscious Jim Kirk in his life.


	9. Chapter Nine

Dissociation: Chapter Nine

 

                _“Jim?”_

Someone was talking to him. The voice sounded muffled.

_“Jim, can you hear me?”_

He shuddered as his eyes fluttered open. Whatever he was leaning against was rigid and cold. As he shifted his body, his muscles protested, sending waves of pain through him. His stomach ached with nausea.

_“C’mon, kid. You gotta let me know you’re okay.”_

Kirk exhaled deeply, his lungs burning. He tried desperately not to throw up. Swallowing hard, he finally forced his eyes completely open. He could see a figure in his peripheral vision.

“Bones?”

“Right here, Jim.” The man’s face was close to the transparent wall that separated them. His brows furrowed over his concerned hazel eyes. “Don’t move around too much. Get your bearings.”

Jim sighed and let his eyelids droop. He was so incredibly tired. All he wanted to do was sleep for days.

And then wake up and have the events of the last few months—the last week—just be part of a horrible nightmare.

“I don’t think that’ll be an issue. I feel like shit.” Jim licked his dry lips and rubbed at his arm. He looked down to see a piece of white gauze taped to his skin. Moving his hand up his bicep, he massaged the healed-over phaser burn Nyota had given him. “What happened?”

McCoy hesitated long enough for Jim to open his eyes again and tilt his head in the Doctor’s direction. Kirk immediately noticed the worry in his expression.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Jim swallowed hard. “Uhura…did I hurt her?”

“No. Just a few superficial scratches and bruises.” McCoy leaned closer to the glass. He was seated on the floor, an arm draped over his raised knee. “I need you to think, Jim. What’s the last thing you recall doing?”

“I made you chase me. I ended up…” He raised his eyes and scanned the brig. “…in here. I shot at everyone.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Bones, I’m scared.”

McCoy pressed his hand up to the barrier. “I know, kid. We all are.”

“You should just put me out of my misery.” Jim sighed and let his forehead thump against the partition.

“Now you listen to me, goddammit.” McCoy’s brows wrinkled sternly. “Things may seem like total shit right now—and believe me, they are. But it’s nothin’ we can’t tackle head-on.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

“Who says I’m lying?” McCoy drummed his fingers on his knee.

“Just forget about me, Bones.” Jim’s eyes were sad and defeated. “I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, you little shit.” He grabbed the PADD on the floor next to him and tapped in a few commands. The screen lit up and he turned it towards Jim. “You see this?”

Jim scanned the information on the screen. The brightness of the brig was starting to hurt his eyes, and looking at the PADD made it worse. After a moment, he turned away and hung his head. “So you think that’s what I’ve got?”

_Dissociative Identity Disorder._

_I know there’s another Jim in me…_

_He’s trying to break free every chance he gets._

“Yes, I do.” McCoy set the device down on the polished floor. “Are you ready to be honest with me? Tell me what I want to hear.”

“And what’s that?”

“I want you to admit that you’ve known about this ‘other Jim’. That you’ve been hiding him from me.”

Kirk finally raised his chin to look at the doctor. “You already seem to know the answer.”

“But I want to hear it from your mouth. Jim…” His eyes were pleading. “…come clean, alright? Everything you volunteer now will help with treatment courses later. It might even work to save you with…” McCoy looked away.

“Starfleet?”

“Yes. We need you to cooperate, Jim. It’s the only way I’m going to be able to do some mighty big convincing.”

“We both know it won’t matter. Nothing you can shove down their throats will change the fact that I’m a criminal.”

“Don’t say that. We’ve got to at least try!”

“Chekov is fighting for his life, Uhura will probably never want to come near me again, and Carol…I raped her. You can’t tell me that you’ll be able to make the brass believe that I wasn’t at fault.” Jim’s voice was solemn. “They’ll take my Captaincy, my ship—my life. And I deserve it.”

“No one deserves mental illness, Jim. And I’m convinced that yours is treatable—maybe even curable.”

“You can’t back that up. What proof do you have?”

McCoy looked down at his boots, sighing deeply. “Not a lot right now, but give me some time.”

Kirk snorted. “I don’t think we have that luxury, Bones. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in the brig. My ship is no doubt heading back to Federation space right now to deliver me straight to the Admiralty. The love of my life is terrified of me, my crew hates me, and you’re trying to tell me that you’ve ‘got this’? What do you call _this_ , huh?” Jim gestured broadly with his arms.

“I call it ‘temporary’.” McCoy sat silently for a second before continuing. “Have a little faith, Jim. I do.”

“It’s a lost cause. I’m…a lost cause.”

“Would M’Benga and I have worked our asses off for the six hours you were out cold refining his serum if you were a ‘lost cause’?” He pointed to the spot on Kirk’s arm covered in a bandage. “It’s been runnin’ through your veins for just over an hour now. And you know what? No ‘other Jim’.”

Kirk absentmindedly rubbed the area, the adhesive of the securing tape pulling at the fine hairs on his upper forearm.

“It’s holding, Jim. It’s not going to cure the cells that have already mutated, but it’ll keep new ones from popping up. It’s slowing the enzyme.” He managed a small smile. “I’m hopeful that it will hold up long enough for us to come up with something. I can’t guarantee that it’ll help with the manic effects of the already mutated cells, but I guess we’ll just have to play that one by ear.”

“So I could still turn? I could still lash out?”

“Yes. So you know why I can’t let you out of here, right?”

Kirk nodded slowly, exhaustion creeping up on him. “I wouldn’t want me roaming the halls if I had a choice.”

“I’m going to figure this out Jim. That’s a promise.” He stood, gathering his belongings. “I’m not going to let you down. I’ll hunt to the ends of the galaxy to cure this if I have to.”

“You just might have to.”

“You’d do the same for me.”

Kirk nodded. “I would…I don’t know about this other guy, though.”

“That ‘other guy’ is going to be a distant memory soon. I’m going to go back to Sick Bay and get to work. I’ll come back and check on you later.”

Jim didn’t offer a response. He just blew out a long, exhausted breath and closed his eyes.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

McCoy didn’t expect to find Carol Marcus outside of the brig.

She leaned against a bulkhead. Her eyes were puffy and swollen, her hair messy, her off-duty pants rumpled. She looked up at him, a mixed expression of sadness and fear on her face.

“I wouldn’t go in there. He’s pretty…” McCoy shook his head. “…pretty…Hell, I don’t have a clue what he is. But I do know that seeing you probably wouldn’t help right now.”

“I don’t quite know why I came down here, to be honest.” She sighed deeply.

The Doctor drummed his fingers on the back of his PADD. “We all deal with things differently. Maybe you thought seeing him locked up would give you a sense of security? Knowing that he can’t hurt you—or anyone else?”

“Maybe.” She looked at the brig door.

“If you really wanted to see him, I’d go in with you.”  

She shook her head and looked down at her boots. “No. I…” She ran a hand through her golden locks. “…I don’t know what I want right now.”

“You want to go somewhere and talk privately?” He motioned towards the turbolift. “It might help.”

Carol sniffled and wiped her nose on a lace handkerchief she held in her hand.

“That’s beautiful. Looks old.”

“It was my grandmother’s. When I was a child, I used to hold onto it when I was feeling down or scared.”

McCoy offered a warm smile. “Some things never change, huh?”

She nodded silently and followed after him as he began walking.

Within minutes, they ended up at McCoy’s personal quarters. He knew that he should be working on Jim’s treatment, but Carol had looked so lost and in need of a friend. And an hour spent off the clock wouldn’t hurt anyway—it wasn’t like Kirk was going anywhere.

He didn’t know what exactly brought him to his cabin and not his office. Maybe to make her feel more at home? To avoid potential failures in Sick Bay?

_To hide…_

“C’mon in.” He gestured into the dark stateroom with his hands. “Make yourself at home. Computer, lights fifty percent.”

The lighting came up as the door closed behind them. Carol sat down on the couch, tucking her legs up under her body. She rubbed her hands up and down her biceps.

“Cold?”

“A little. I’m really not feeling all that great.”

“You want a medical workup?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you. I think it’s just stress.”

McCoy adjusted the heat in the room before moving into the small kitchenette. Moments later, he returned with a mug of—replicated—hot cocoa. “It’s not home-made, but Jim swears the marshmallows taste like the real deal.”

Carol accepted the steaming cup, wrapping her dainty fingers around it. After taking a moment to blow away the steam, she sipped, a small smile crossing her lips. “Jim’s right, it’s not bad.” Her eyes saddened at the mention of his name. “Is he…how is he?”

McCoy sat back into the plush couch, his own cup in hand. “Beside himself. Literally.”

“Does he even realize what he’s done?”

“Yes.” McCoy blew out a long breath before continuing. “He’s extremely remorseful…for now.”

“You think he’ll turn again, don’t you?”

The Doctor nodded. “I can only tweak M’Benga’s serum so much. It won’t hold off the enzymes for long. For the moment he’s stable, but I can’t guarantee he’ll stay that way.”

“You know, I was thinking this morning, before everything went to Hell…” She sipped her cocoa. “…I remembered when Jim and I first began seeing each other. He was so caring, so romantic.”

“He still is, Carol. That demon’s just stifling him right now.”

“He sings, you know. Country music.” She wiped her eyes with her thumb. “He used to serenade me at night, in the darkness of his cabin.   I’m afraid that I’ll never get that again. I’m afraid…of him.”

“I’m going to help him, I promise. I…” McCoy’s communicator beeped. “Hang on a sec, Carol. McCoy here.”

_“Doctor, Ensign Chekov is awake. We thought you should know.”_

“Thanks. I’ll be right down.” He disconnected the signal. “Look, I’ve got to go. But I want to finish this conversation, alright? I think it’ll do us both some good.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so.” Leonard dropped his mug into the sink. “Feel free to stay and finish your cocoa. I trust you not to steal anything. Unless you want to lift that God-awful painting of the Gorn twins Jim insisted I ‘had to have’.” He winked.

Carol actually giggled as he left.

 

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

 

“Let’s try again.”

McCoy tapped his finger on the screen in front of him. M’Benga, working in tandem, zeroed in on the blood sample in question. With a flutter of his fingers, the computer removed a portion of the liquid from the test tube and placed it on a microscope slide. Within seconds, the image of the cells appeared on the vidscreen.

“Oh my God, look at them all.” M’Benga held his hand over his mouth in awe. “They’ve doubled, maybe even tripled in number since the last one.”

The tiny enzymes attached to the red blood cells were like a plague. Every surface of the cells was covered in them. Dozens of leucocytes tried desperately to latch on to the attackers, only to shrivel and fall to the wayside almost instantly.

“Len, this is insane.”

McCoy sighed and grabbed his coffee mug, draining the remnants of his fourth serving in just under two hours. “You said it. What the hell made those scientists back then think jerking around with genetics would get them anywhere good?”

“I’m sure they were just trying to better the human race…in the beginning.”

“Well, they sure fucked up.” McCoy rubbed his aching neck muscles, feeling a knot at the base of his skull. He winced as his fingers prodded it. “Augments, my ass.”

“What if we blast the enzymes with low-level radiation? Khan’s blood still has a large enough effect on the Captain that he might be shielded from any side-effects.”

“It’s worth a shot.” McCoy typed in a few commands and the isolated work area in front of them was bathed in a soft yellow light. They both looked up at the screen to see the results.

The enzymes ballooned in size and devoured the cells whole.

“Well, shit.”

“At least now we know, though.” M’Benga stood, popping his back with a satisfied sigh. “You want another cup of coffee?”

“Why not? It’s not like we’re going anywhere.”

“I’ll go to the mess and get us something to eat, too. I need to stretch my legs anyway.”

McCoy just grunted his response and turned his attention back to his work. He removed another blood sample from the quickly dwindling on-hand supply and the computer prepared another slide. After the isolation chamber had been cleared and disinfected, the cells were placed inside.

He just stared at them.

He was so tired. It felt as if nothing he was doing was producing any results. True, he and M’Benga had worked to find a remedy to keep Jim at bay, but they were no closer to a cure. And time was running out.

For everyone.

Looking at his chronometer, he blew out a long, defeated breath. They would be back to Earth in six days. If he and M’Benga didn’t come up with something—anything more—Jim would no doubt be removed from his position and be incarcerated.

_Think, damn you!_

_There’s got to be a detail you’ve overlooked._

_Something that can keep these little asshole enzymes in check._

They had tried radiation. Nerve agents. Antibiotics. Hell, they had even tried acid.

Nothing worked.

Leonard hung his head in defeat. After a long maudlin moment, he straightened up and looked around the lab. Deciding to stand, he began to rifle through the cabinets and drawers, trying to find anything—no matter how absurd it may be—to use on the sample.

Several minutes passed, McCoy making his way around the room. While he hadn’t managed to find anything suitable for their cause, he did come across a gold pen he thought he had lost. It was shoved in a drawer, underneath some petri dishes. He held the object in his hand, rolling the smooth casing over his skin.

It had been a present from Jim.

McCoy couldn’t remember the occasion now, but he did know that Kirk had been so pleased with himself when he presented it. Kirk was always big on tangible items. He loved the smell of an old paper-bound book, the feel of a heavy traditional magnifying glass in his hand as he hunched over to read the small text. Leonard remembered their time at the Academy, how Jim would always find himself in possession of an actual magazine or leather-bound tome. McCoy never knew where he got them from, but the joy on Kirk’s face as he read was undeniable.

In the age where technology ruled, there was something so simple about watching Jim with his nose in a book. He had given the Doctor a gift once of his favorite novel, and it was something that McCoy treasured.

When Jim had gifted him the gold pen, his reasoning was simple.

_“You rely too much on the computer, Bones. Try writing down your thoughts the old-fashioned way. It’s relaxing.”_

McCoy couldn’t recall just how the pen had come to rest in the drawer—forgotten—but he was glad he had found it again. And he vowed to do just what Jim had encouraged him to do.

He would keep a journal.

Not medical logs, not patient charts.

His own thoughts.

_But I’m not going to start until this is over._

_I don’t want to remember this when I’m old and gray._

Pocketing the pen, he kept moving. He opened a specially designed cooling cabinet and came face to face with an unexpected surprise.

_It’s better than nothing…_

_Who knows?_

McCoy grabbed the glass beaker and dashed to the lab station. It was cold on his hands. Carefully opening the top, he loaded the liquid into the computer system with a shielded pipet. Within seconds, he had instructed the computer to administer his find.

A smile graced his lips as the enzymes began to lose their hold on the cells. They didn’t fall off, but their influence over them was diminished greatly.

It wasn’t a complete fix, but it might just buy them the time they needed to find one.

Preparing another sample, he tried again. He needed to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.

And just like the first time, the enzymes lost some of their power.

_Hot damn!_

_Now to find a way to keep this shit cold._

The door swished open behind him, producing M’Benga and a tray laden with food. “I didn’t know what you were in the mood for so I just got a little of everything.”

McCoy jumped up and rushed at his colleague. “No time! I think I may have found a temporary solution!” He pointed to the screen above the workstation.

“What happened? What did you do?”

“A little bit of Prycotase, that’s what I did.”

M’Benga looked at him in confusion. “Prycotase? What on Earth made you try that stuff? It’s for treating Vulcan skin conditions.”

“Hey, when you’re at the end of your rope, even the weirdest things are worth a shot. Besides, I figured the extreme temperature might be a catalyst.”

Both men stared at the screen for a long moment.

“We’ll need to do some more research before we put it in the Captain’s body. And we need to figure out a way to rig a delivery system that will keep it cold enough so it doesn’t degrade.”

McCoy grabbed a sandwich off of the tray. “Well, it’s a good thing you brought back enough food. Let’s get to work.”

 

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

**The Next Morning**

 

“Hold still.”

McCoy thumped his finger against a vein in Kirk’s arm. When it plumped up, he inserted a long, thin needle into Jim’s flesh and pushed the plunger on the syringe. Jim winced at the pressure and tried to pull his arm back through the iris in the prison wall, but the Doctor held firm.

“I’m almost done, just hang on.” He finished pushing the meds and withdrew the needle. He held a small piece of gauze over the weeping wound. “Hold that on there for a minute or two.”

“Why didn’t you use a hypo?” Jim rubbed his arm.

“This suspension’s too thick for a hypospray. Plus, it needs to be super-cooled and it would jam up the mechanism.” He watched as Kirk shivered in his cell. “You want the heat turned up? You’re gonna be cold for a while.”

Kirk shook his head. “No. I deserve to suffer, anyway.”

“Don’t talk like that. No one deserves to be in pain. Well…maybe Khan.”

Jim snorted. “I wish I would have gotten a crack at him.”

“Spock gave him enough for all of us, believe me.” He thrust a small scanner through the hole in the wall. “Hold this on your chest for a few seconds; I need to get a cardiac reading. And breathe steady.”

Jim obliged, taking deep, even breaths. The device beeped after a quick moment and he handed it back. McCoy immediately handed him another medical scanner.

“Now press this one against your forehead.”

Kirk huffed in annoyance. “Isn’t this supposed to be your job?”

McCoy scowled and shook his finger at his imprisoned friend. “Well, I can’t just let you out and into Medical for a proper exam, can I?”

Jim’s eyes saddened. “No, I suppose not.” The scanner finished its cycle and McCoy held out his hand. Kirk placed it in his palm. “Anything else?”

“Not right now.”

Jim shivered again. “How long before we know if it worked?”

“Dunno, kid. I’ll draw blood every two hours to analyze the components. I’m also going to stick around to keep an eye on your mental state. Let me know if you feel funny.” He beckoned for Jim’s wrist. As soon as Kirk slid his arm through, McCoy attached a thin bracelet.

“Funny? Bones, I’ve been feeling like shit for so long, I don’t know if I can tell the difference.” He looked down at his arm. “What’s this?”

McCoy closed the iris on the cell and pushed it off to the side. “A bio-monitor. Since I can’t have you on a biobed, it’s the next best thing.”

Jim moved away from the window and sat on the small bed. He drew his knees up to his body and rubbed his hands on his biceps. His teeth began to chatter, his lips turning blue.

The doctor tapped in a few commands on the side panel, raising the temperature of the cell. “The deep chill should abate within an hour, Jim. It’s freezin’ you because it was so cold going in.”

“Why?”

“It’s a compound that needs to be kept at a constant frigid temperature. Otherwise it disintegrates.”

“Oh.” Kirk’s eyes closed for a moment. “I’m really tired, Bones.”

“Yeah, we figured that might be one of the side effects.” He pulled up a small rolling stool. “Try and get some rest, alright? I’m going to stick around for a while and get some scans.”

Jim lay down on the bed, turning to face the wall. His voice trailed off as he fell asleep. “I’m sorry for everything …”

McCoy looked at the screen on his PADD, watching as Kirk’s vitals began to even off as he was quickly pulled into his dreams. He minimized the medical readout and sent it to the corner of the screen. Grabbing for his lately ever-present cup of coffee, he settled in and went back to his research.

More than an hour passed, the Doctor engrossed in his work, pausing every once and a while to peek in on his patient—his friend—or check this statistics. Jim slept fitfully for quite a while, tossing and turning until his body finally succumbed to exhaustion.

Nose-deep in hematological genetic studies, McCoy didn’t even notice someone come up behind him.

“I see that the Captain is asleep.”

Leonard jumped, his PADD clattering to the floor as his hand shot up over his heart in fright. “Christ almighty, Spock! You scared the bejesus out of me!”

The Vulcan quirked an eyebrow. “I am unfamiliar with that term. Is ‘bejesus’ a form of excrement?”

McCoy rolled his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

“I am not capable of ‘kidding’, Doctor.”

“You got that right.” He stood, bending over to retrieve his hastily discarded device. He motioned in Kirk’s direction. “He’s been asleep for about an hour. I’ve got to wake him in another to draw blood.”

“Has he remained stable?”

“There hasn’t been any reoccurrence of the split personality, if that’s what you’re getting at.” He sighed deeply, staring at his friend. “I can’t guarantee that the other guy won’t come back without any warning, though.”

“What progress have you and Doctor M’Benga made? Have you had any success with a cure?”

“We were able to cobble together a makeshift serum to counteract some of the mutations. But it’s a temporary fix. I know it won’t hold forever.”

“The ship is six-point-five days from Earth. Do you foresee you will have made significant progress? I am certain Starfleet will be expecting an update.”

“I’ve been combing through every medical journal and research study I can get my hands on. There’s not a goddamn thing.” McCoy rubbed the base of his neck, letting his head droop slightly. “It’s not every day a madman’s blood is used to bring a Starfleet Captain back to life—and then have said blood turn that life upside down.”

Spock moved closer to the clear wall, staring in at Kirk. McCoy watched as the Vulcan stood silently for a long moment, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. Jim never stirred on the tiny bed.

“Spock…if we can’t find a cure—and there’s a good possibility of that—Jim’ll have to be hospitalized in a secure facility back on Earth. More than likely for the rest of his life.”

It was only after several moments that the First Officer finally spoke again. “Then please see to it that both you and Doctor M’Benga do not fail in your endeavor.” The Vulcan finally turned around, his expression stoic.

“I’m going to try my damndest. But you have to promise me that you’ll _see to it_ that I get as much time as I need…if you catch my drift.”

Spock cocked his head. “Doctor, I believe you are asking me to delay our arrival to Earth.”

McCoy rolled his eyes. “That’s ten points for you, Commander Obvious.”

“I was not aware we were playing a game. And my formal title bears no resembl—“

“Holy Hell, Spock! Just…forget it.” McCoy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Get outta here, alright? I’m stressed and need to get back to work.”

“Of course, Doctor. Please keep me apprised of the Captain’s condition, as well as any new issues that should arise.” He began to walk away, hesitating seconds later. “And the _Enterprise_ is due for a routine maintenance workup. I predict it will take approximately three-point-four days to complete. Unfortunately, it will postpone our arrival home.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a lie, Mister Spock. I thought you guys weren’t capable of that.”

“It is not a lie, I assure you. There is no set schedule for completion. The upkeep must be accomplished by the end of the month. Nowhere is it stated exactly when it must begin.” A small, almost unnoticeable smirk crossed his thin lips. “We have the available manpower at the moment, so I see no reason why we should wait.”

“Thanks, Spock.” McCoy turned back around and resumed his work as the Vulcan left.


	10. Chapter Ten

Dissociation: Chapter Ten

**Four Days Later**

                “Goddammit!”

McCoy slammed his fist down on the desk. The results glared at him from the computer screen, mocking his hard work. He wanted to swipe his hand across the surface and knock the whole damn setup onto the floor.

There had been no change for Jim. No good change, anyway.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, digging his thumbs into the corners of his eyes. Sighing with exhaustion, he leaned back against his chair, trying to steady it before he fell backwards. He craned his neck, taking a quick peek out into the main Medical Bay. Thankfully, times were slow and he hadn’t received many patients. Usually, he would get restless in moments such as these—because it was like Jim had an internal sensor that would go off whenever McCoy was bored. No sooner would the Doctor take a breather and allow himself a minute of rest, and Jim would come waltzing in—or be brought in unconscious and bleeding—and the dullness would end.

And now he’d give his left arm for some monotony.

Nothing was going right.

Jim had shown some initial improvement after he administered the revamped serum, but the effects had been short-lived. Within a day, Kirk’s alter ego had reared his ugly head again and McCoy was back at square one.

He had witnessed Spock take the full brunt of the “other Jim” over a comm channel piped in from the brig. McCoy had requested he be sent a feed any time Kirk had visitors. The Vulcan had remained remarkably stoic throughout the whole experience, even when Jim had verbally abused him and brought up very touchy subjects.

_“Good morning, Captain.” Spock stood straight-backed, hands clasped at his waist._

_Kirk was sitting on the floor, back against the side wall. He stared his First Officer down, lips curling into a mocking snarl. “Well, well…Spock. That’s a strange name. You ever get beat up for it?”_

_The Vulcan cocked his head slightly. “Why would I be attacked for my name?”_

_“Because it’s stupid. Spocccckkkk…”_

_“Captain, there is no point in attempting to, as humans would say, ‘get under my skin’ by insulting my namesake. You will not elicit a reaction from me.”_

_Kirk laughed and thumped the back of his head against the wall. “Whatever, Spocccckkkk. Still sounds like a stupid name.”_

_“I am here check on your progress. Doctor McCoy informed me that you have had a setback.”_

_“Setback? He’s a worthless sack of shit, that crabby-assed southern fool.” Jim stood, stretching his arms high above his head as he moved closer to the barrier. “He and that jerk M’Benga seem to think that I want to be ‘cured’. That I need to be back to ‘normal’.”_

_“Your current medical situation warrants treatment. You will never be allowed to have your Captaincy back under these circumstances. It is in your best interest.”_

_“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Kirk slammed his fist against the window. Spock never flinched. “You all think you know what’s best for me. Well, fuck you!”_

_“You are at present mentally compromised. You are in no position to know what is best for you.”_

_Kirk got right up to the wall of the cell, his breath fogging on the surface. “You know, Spock…” His voice growled sinisterly. “…it’s a shame I never got to fuck Uhura. I’ve always wanted to get between those legs and make her scream. I bet she tastes heavenly.”_

_Spock stood silently for a long moment, never showing one hint of emotion. Kirk paced back and forth, eyeing him as he moved._

_“Or maybe your mom? I never did get to meet her. Do you think your father even enjoyed being with her? Or did he just go through the motions to create your pointy ass? Exactly how long does it take for a Vulcan to get it up?” Kirk snickered, obviously proud of his lewd remarks. “After all she seemed pretty vanilla for a human…not that much of a challenge to get into the sack.”_

_The First Officer clenched his jaw ever so slightly, but did not waver emotionally. “Captain, if you are trying to cause me to lash out at you verbally, you must know that you will fail. My Vulcan upbr—“_

_“Your Vulcan upbringing doesn’t mean jack shit! I remember the warp core…you cried. Like a fucking baby. Like a—human.” Kirk narrowed his eyes as he spoke. “You try and hide behind that façade of ‘being a Vulcan’, but I have your number. I know your weakness...”_

_“Your claim is—“_

_“My claim is spot on!” Kirk sneered at his First Officer from behind the partition. “Admit it, seeing me dying in front of your eyes nearly destroyed you!”_

_Spock didn’t reply._

_“Do you know that I could actually feel my blood boiling in my veins?” Jim continued, hands clenched tightly at his sides. “My lungs filled with fluid and every breath I took burned with such intensity that I prayed for death! And you…you just…”_

_“I did the only thing I was able to do. I attempted to comfort you in what I realized were your last living moments. I…”_

_“You could have used that Vulcan brain of yours to find a way to open the hatch.”_

_“We both know that would have resulted in putting the entire ship in danger. It was not an option.”_

_Kirk spit on the glass. “You didn’t even try to save me!”_

_“Captain, I refuse to listen to your abuse any longer. You are not in your right mind. I will return at a later time to keep tabs on your progress.”_

_As the Vulcan turned his back and made his way to the door, Kirk yelled after him, his face turning beet red. “You’re a fucking coward, Spock! You can’t face the fact that I died in that accessway! It’s your fault! I left the ship in your hands and you all but killed her! You signed my death warrant!”_

_Spock clasped his hands behind his back and left, Jim screaming himself hoarse behind him._

_“Don’t you walk away from me! I’m your goddamn Captain!”_

As the video feed went black, McCoy had actually felt bad for Spock. He knew that the Vulcan was more than capable of enduring Kirk’s cruelty, but hearing those awful things Jim had said about Uhura and Amanda—it even made him cringe. And then on top of it, Kirk had brought up that awful day in the warp core. If he was trying to be an asshole, he certainly succeeded.

McCoy sighed and tried to get back to work. He had hundreds of medical journals and research papers to go through, and it felt as if he hadn’t even scratched the surface. They were only six days out from Earth—thanks to Spock’s “convenient” repair schedule—and time was ticking away.

If he didn’t find something, and fast—Jim would be doomed to a life of medical imprisonment and testing.

Hours passed, and he was no closer to anything—a cure, a chance—nothing. Jim was rotting away in the brig with his mind in pieces and he was all but sitting there with his finger up his ass. He knew he should be combing through Starfleet records one more time trying to find something that could help. But in the time since he had watched Spock walk out on Jim, he had unsuccessfully read through only three files.

He knew that Kirk needed him to be on the very top of his game.

He knew that hope was quickly fading.

But something inside of him was gnawing, screaming at him to stop being an ass get back in gear before he lost Jim forever.

_I’m so fucking scared._

_I’m not brave._

_I’m no hero._

_That’s…_

_…Jim’s job._

McCoy pinched his wrist like his Granny used to do when he daydreamed instead of concentrated and opened up three separate windows on his computer and got to work. He wasn’t about to let his insecurities and doubts cloud what little chance Jim had left of a normal life.

He was the CMO, dammit, and more importantly—Kirk’s only friend left in the Federation.

“Fuck me.” McCoy huffed and gritted his teeth. Jim was counting on him.

 

 

XxX   XxX XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX

 

Carol Marcus swallowed hard, trying not to visibly shake. As she tentatively padded towards the cell, she tried to discern which ‘Jim’ she would be talking to. Kirk sat on the small bed, head hung between his shoulders. His body seemed relaxed—or as relaxed as he could be while imprisoned. His skin wasn’t flushed as it had been when he was manic, and there was no indication of the trembling or sense of malice that followed him when he wasn’t himself.

All evidence pointed to the Captain—the lover—that she knew.

Taking a deep breath, she approached the window. She crossed her arms over her midsection—she wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or an unconscious move to protect herself from Jim, even though he was securely incarcerated.

“Hello, Carol.”

She gasped softly, not really expecting him to speak first—or at all.

He lifted his head and turned to face her, never moving from his position. She noticed clarity in his eyes right away, they seemed to sparkle like they used to. She had to fight to keep a small smile from gracing her lips. After all, she knew that the other Kirk lurked somewhere beneath the surface, waiting to pounce if given the chance.

“I didn’t think you’d come and visit.”

She stayed a good three feet back from the window, not willing to get closer—yet. Watching as he stood and straightened his top, she bit her lower lip in anticipation. For what, she did not know.

“You have every right to hate me.” He placed his hand on the window, fingers splayed wide in what could be seen as a submissive and loving gesture. “Carol…please say something.”

Her throat was dry and she didn’t know if she would be able to respond. She licked her lips and looked away from him for a split second. Her voice shook slightly as she answered.

“I’m scared of you.”

Jim’s shoulders sagged. He nodded slowly and looked away from her as his hand slipped from the partition. “Nothing I can say could possibly ever make this right, I know that. But Carol...you have to believe me when I say th—“

“I know, Jim. I know it wasn’t you.” She took a few steps in his direction, closing the gap between them. “I’m so torn right now. Part of me never wants to see you again, and to do everything in my power to make sure you stay behind bars for the rest of your life.”

Jim looked up at her for a moment, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. He remained silent.

“But then there’s the other part of me that knows that you’re mentally ill. And that you had no control over what that other person was doing—or doing _to you_.”

“I’m scared of him, Carol.” Jim slumped down onto the floor, crossing his legs underneath his body. “I’m scared of what he’s capable of.”

Carol mirrored his movements and sat on the floor, allowing herself to get right up next to the glass. “I don’t know what to allow myself to believe right now. My mind is in shambles. I know that what Doctor McCoy says is truth—that you’re sick. I know that it was Khan’s blood and I know that they’re trying so hard right now to fix it.” She sighed deeply. “But what one ‘knows’ and what one feels in their gut can be so very different.”

“And right now your gut is telling you what?”

“To run.”

_But I’m not._

_Why?_

They both sat silently for a long moment. Carol didn’t look at him, even though she could feel his eyes on her. After several minutes, he finally spoke, his voice low and sincere.

“Do you know that the first time we made love I knew right then and there that I wanted you in my life forever?”

Carol felt her heart flutter in her chest. She remembered that night vividly. Jim had recently moved back into his apartment after being hospitalized for the better part of four months. They ate Chinese take-out from a hole-in-the-wall place a few blocks away and drank beer that Jim had been forbidden to partake in by a certain crabby southern doctor. She recalled how he had the look of a mischievous schoolboy on his face as he drank his illegal beverage, very proud of the fact that he was disobeying a direct order from his CMO. His body had felt so warm snuggled up against her own on his couch as they watched old holovids until well after midnight. He had felt so—alive.

She honestly hadn’t planned on spending the night.

Things progressed slowly and before she knew it, they were both naked and basking in the pale moonlight of the San Francisco night. Gone were the thoughts that she would hurt his weakened body, replaced by pure bliss.

“Your skin was so soft, and I never wanted that moment to end. I wanted to keep you by my side and never leave that bedroom.”

“I remember.”

“You brought be breakfast in bed. You burnt the toast.”

A small smile graced her lips at the memory. Jim had dutifully eaten the blackened toast, the ashy crumbs sticking to the corners of his mouth.

“Best morning of my life.” He chuckled lightly. “Even though the breakfast was less than desirable.”

Carol could feel her protective walls crumbling, even though she was trying her hardest to resist Jim’s charm. She told herself she needed to remember who exactly was sitting in front of her—what he had done. And most of all, she didn’t want to give in to her emotions, to allow herself to relive those wonderful memories.  

She didn’t want to let it happen—because she didn’t want it to be taken from her again. But in the end, she couldn’t help it. Jim had her…and she floated away.

“I can’t believe you ate everything. Even the gloppy oatmeal.” She coyly hid her face as she giggled. “I warned you that I wasn’t a very good cook long before I ever made you that meal.”

Kirk laughed heartily. “That oatmeal _was_ awful. Worse than the hospital stuff. And I didn’t know it was possible to burn scrambled eggs.”

“You definitely showed me up the next day by making that incredible dinner. From that day forward, I knew I would never have to cook again.”

“I wasn’t about to let you.” Jim smirked. “I would have ended up back in the hospital.”

“Well excuse me for spending all my time becoming a physicist instead of learning how to make grilled cheese.”

“I’m sure you’d burn that too…”

Carol felt at ease. Any feelings of fear towards Jim had completely melted away. She felt as if they were back in the past—long before any of this awfulness ever occurred—and she didn’t want it to end. She wished that she could take Jim—this Jim—and whisk him far away. Off the ship, out of Starfleet. Off to somewhere where the specter of Khan and her father couldn’t reach them.

“…just like I’d love to burn your pretty little body to a crisp.”

Chills ran up Carol’s spine as she heard the tone of Jim’s voice change. His words tore through her soul, echoing in her mind. In one short instant, her peace had been shattered and she was back to where she had been minutes before.

She scooted back quickly on her rear end, trying to get away from him, even though she knew there was no way he could physically harm her through the glass. His eyes—now filled with hatred and malice—stared her down as his lips curled into a sinister snarl.

“I could kill you with my bare hands.” He banged a fist against the barrier, causing Carol to jump back even further. “Wrap my fingers around your neck and squeeze until your eyes bulged out of your head. I can almost feel your body trembling in my grip.”

Carol shook her head in disbelief as she began to cry. She scrambled away from him and watched as he stood, wringing his hands in front of him.

“That last night we were together…I can still feel you underneath me. You fought so hard to stop me, you little bitch. But you weren’t strong enough. You’re worthless…but still a good fuck. I’d love one more crack at you.”

She sobbed and ran towards the door. As her feet flew, she finally realized once and for all that her Jim was gone.

And she didn’t know if he would ever come back.

Her tears splattered on the smooth, polished floor of the brig as she ran, Jim laughing maniacally behind her as she fled.

 

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“Carol!”

McCoy caught her as she ran out of the brig. She stiffened in his embrace and began to pummel his chest.

“Let me go! Just…”

He tightened his grip around her tiny body, knowing that if he let go now, she could fall and potentially injure herself in her hysterical state. “Carol, listen to me…calm down. Tell me what happened.”

She seemed to begin to lose her will to fight. Her fists stopped and a moment later, and she slumped into his arms, reduced to a trembling mass of tears and sorrow.

“Doctor McCoy…I…he…” She sobbed into his uniform top, soaking through the thin fabric in a matter of seconds. He could feel the moisture seep through his undershirt and onto his skin moments later. Her body shook as her hiccupped cries wracked through her tiny frame.

“Shhh, Carol…it’s alright.” He suddenly wanted to throttle Jim for whatever he had said—or did. But he quickly squelched that feeling, telling himself that it wasn’t “their Jim” that was behind the secured door right now.

“I let my guard down. I was so stupid.” Carol’s voice was muffled as she pressed her face into his chest. “I should have never come down here.”

Leonard loosened his embrace and pushed Carol back a bit so he could look her in the eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, her nose dripping. He spied her grandmother’s handkerchief on the ground—hastily dropped in her retreat—and bent down to retrieve it. Offering it to her with one hand, he firmly gripped her bicep with the other.

“You had no idea what he was going to do, Carol. Or how he would react. None of us do.”

She wiped her nose with the cloth as she tried to take a deep, calming breath. “I don’t ever want to see him again.”

McCoy’s heart sunk. He hated hearing those words come from the mouth of the woman who loved Jim more than he would ever know. But he knew she was hurting right now—scared and betrayed—and she was every bit entitled to her feelings. He wished there was some magical fairy dust he could sprinkle into the air and make everything back to the way it was. No one deserved to go through the hell they were all dealing with right now. Especially Jim.

And Carol.

“I want you to listen to me, okay?”

She sniffled and nodded.

“Go back to your quarters and take the rest of the day off, Doctor’s orders.”

“But…”

“No ‘buts’. If anyone has a problem with you not performing your duties today, they can take it up with me.” He offered a small smile. “I’m going to go deal with Jim, alright? I know it’s going to be hard, but I want you to promise me that you’ll try and put whatever just happened out of your mind. Whiskey works wonders, you know.”

Carol actually snorted a small laugh. “I don’t like whiskey.”

“Bourbon, then.”

“Doctor’s orders?”

McCoy pulled her forward and hugged her gently. “Please remember that it’s not _him_. Our Jim isn’t there, no matter how much we want him to be. He might make an appearance once and a while, but that other ‘thing’ has control over him.”

Carol pushed away and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

McCoy looked at her with solemn eyes. “I’ll come by later and we can talk. You definitely can’t go through this alone.”

She nodded silently and turned to walk down the corridor. She dragged her feet as she shuffled away.

The Doctor pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the tell-tale signs of one whopper of a headache coming on. His heart broke for Carol, and ached for his friend. Tightening his grip around the handle of the Med Kit he carried, he took a deep breath and headed into the brig.

The security officer sitting at the console nodded in his direction with a warm smile, but her eyes showed a miniscule hint of sadness.

_Boy, she sure puts on a brave face._

_It must be hell to watch your Captain do and say such awful things and not be able to stop him._

McCoy approached the cell and he could feel his stomach begin to tighten. He really hoped he didn’t have to deal with what Carol had just encountered. He didn’t know if he had the fortitude.

“Bones, I…”

Kirk’s face was flushed as he turned toward the Doctor, wet lines of tears running down both cheeks. His hands trembled in his lap as he tried to take deep breaths to calm himself. He looked up at the Doctor with pleading, bloodshot eyes.

The ‘old Jim’ was back.

“I know, Jim. You didn’t mean it.”

“But _he_ did.” The young Captain shook his head remorsefully. “He hates her. Hates her so much he wants to kill her. And I almost let him.”

The fine hairs on McCoy’s neck stood on end. This was the first time that Jim—the real Jim—had recognized something that the other man inhabiting him felt. And of course, it just had to be of murderous intent. Up until now, he had thought that the two entities were separate, only able to act clear of each other. But now, Jim was acknowledging that this ghost inside of him was in control.

McCoy felt helpless as he tried to offer some sort of comfort.

“You can’t hurt her, Jim. Not while you’re in here.”

“Not physically.” Kirk sighed and lay down on the floor with his back to his friend, not bothering to go to the small bed. “Bruises heal, Bones. Emotional scars are forever.”

“That’s true.” He sat down on the floor, hoping that Jim would turn to face him. “But Carol’s a smart woman—stubborn, but smart—and she knows what’s going on. It’ll take her some time, that’s for damn sure—but she’ll come around. I promise.”

Jim snorted and curled himself into a tight ball. “Don’t make promises you can’t back up.”

McCoy blew out a long, tired breath. He knew Jim was right. Even though he wanted to be able to tell Jim everything was going to be okay—and then make good on his word—he knew that with each passing hour, the prospect of that actually happening became less of a reality. But he knew he needed to be strong. He just didn’t know for whom anymore.

“Hey dammit, don’t you tell me what I can and cannot promise. Have I ever let you down?”

Jim didn’t respond.

“Look, don’t give up hope. I sure as hell haven’t.”

Kirk finally rolled over and propped his head up on his hand. “It’s hard to keep faith when I’m trapped in here with this madman.”

“Jim, I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now, but believe me when I tell you that I’ll be with you every step of the way.

“But will she?”

McCoy shook his head. “Only she can tell you that.”

Kirk nodded slowly, then motioned towards the Med Kit on the floor. “There’s no hypos in that thing, are there?”

“What do you think?” McCoy grunted as he hoisted his weight off of the floor. His back ached something fierce and it seemed like every joint in his body popped in unison. “Stand up and come to the glass. I need to draw some more blood.”

Jim obliged, pushing his sleeve up as he moved towards the Doctor. He slid his arm through the opening he had created, and McCoy gently pressed the vacutainer to his skin. Leonard looked down to the device, watching the blood bubble in.

He realized far too late that he should have never taken his eyes off of Jim.

In an instant, Kirk’s other hand had shot through the iris and latched onto McCoy’s forearm, causing him to drop the tool. It fell to the ground, the receptacle filled with blood smashing to the floor, spilling its contents onto the floor.

Jim’s strength was unreal, and McCoy actually thought for a moment that the young Captain was going to rip his arm clear from its socket. He struggled against Kirk as he yelled for the security guard to help him.

Kirk cackled maniacally behind the glass, his lips sneering as he pulled. His fingernails dug into McCoy’s arm, piercing through the fabric of his tunic and drawing blood from his flesh.

“Gotcha!” Jim yanked so hard Leonard slammed against the barrier, his face smashing with such force that he feared his nose would break. “C’mon, Bones…I want you to come in here and play. You think you can fit through this itty-bitty hole?”

McCoy pulled back against Jim as hard as he could as the security officer ran to his side. She grabbed onto his shoulders and strained, trying to get the Doctor out of the mighty grip of her insane leader.

“Let go and grab my Med Kit!” Leonard’s face was beginning to redden as he felt his strength fade. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out before he tired too much. “Open it and find the hypo labeled ‘methohexital’! Hurry!”

The young woman obeyed, scrambling for the kit. She tore the lid open and dumped the contents, scattering them onto the floor. McCoy was too busy trying not to get his elbow dislocated to be annoyed. She sifted through the various scanners and hypos until she found her desired target. She pressed it into Leonard’s hand and seconds later, he had slammed it into Jim’s exposed flesh.

Kirk wailed and recoiled, letting go of McCoy’s arm as he stumbled back. He rubbed the injection point vigorously. “What the fuck did you do?”

McCoy watched silently, trying to catch his breath, as Jim staggered around his cell, the powerful sedative beginning to take effect. Several seconds later, Kirk’s legs gave out and he crumpled to the floor, his head smashing against the smooth surface with a sickening crack.

“Fuck you…Bones…”

Jim’s eyes slipped shut, leaving a thin sliver of white exposed.

Leonard slid down the front of the window, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. The security guard knelt beside him.

“Doctor…what happened? He just went…”

“…Berserk.” He looked at Jim in disbelief.

The woman turned to face her Captain. “I’ve heard rumors about how he…gets. But to see it up close and in person? It’s terrifying.”

“Tell me about it.” Having caught his breath, McCoy lifted off the floor, steadying his body on the window with his hand. “Thanks for your quick help. He probably would have pulled my arm off and beat me with it if you hadn’t have swooped in.”

“Do you need me to call Doctor M’Benga?”

“No, I’m fine. You can go back to your post.”

She eyed him with a hint of suspicion before doing as she was told.

McCoy could feel her eyes on him as he pulled out a scanner and synced it with Jim’s bio-monitor. He sighed heavily as the readout began to produce results on his PADD screen. Not surprisingly, Kirk’s vitals were sluggish; a result of the heavy narcotic sedative the young man had pumping through his veins.

As he watched the statistics compile on the screen and load into the memory banks, he couldn’t help but allow a wave of emotions wash over him. His heart sunk as he realized that Jim might actually be a lost cause.

_“I’ll be with you every step of the way”, I told him._

_Jesus, if I do that, he might actually succeed in killing me one day._

_But I can’t abandon him._

After the scan completed its cycle, he shut the device off and threw it into the empty Med Kit. Taking a moment to clean up the hastily discarded supplies, he told himself that he couldn’t give up hope.

Even when it seemed there was no more hope left to be had.

Turning to take one last look at Jim lying on the floor of his cell, he closed the iris on the barrier and walked away, his shoulder throbbing.

 

 

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**Six Hours Later**

McCoy rubbed his aching neck as he waited for Carol Marcus to answer her door.

He had spent the better part of the last several hours combing through new documents and records that he thought might just help in his research. And for the most part—they didn’t. He had come across a few leads that seemed promising, but when M’Benga had come in and scolded him for not eating anything all day, he had been ousted from Medical. His colleague had used stern words when making sure the Doctor would promise to eat something and get some rest—in that order.

Now, standing in the hallway with a tray of various dessert items from the Officer’s Mess, he wanted nothing more than to put his feet up and try and forget this awful day—if only for a few moments. He hoped Carol would share in his sentiments.

The door slid open and Carol greeted him with a small, albeit seemingly forced, smile. “You didn’t have to bring food, you know. I have a replicator.”

“Well, I was kicked out of Sick Bay with explicit orders to ‘eat something or be sedated’, so I figured we could wallow away our pity with cake and ice cream.”

“I’m pretty sure Doctor M’Benga meant for you to eat something healthy.” Carol quirked her eyebrow.

“Keep my secret and I’ll share.”

Carol extended a hand into her quarters. “Have a seat. Would you like a cup of coffee? I think we’re going to need something to cut all that sweet.”

“That’d be great, thanks.” McCoy set the tray down on Carol’s small living room table and sat back on the couch. She returned a moment later with two steaming mugs. McCoy accepted his with a smile. “Are you doing any better? Were you able to relax any?”

“Some.” She reached for a slice of lemon cake. “May I?”

“Just as long as you leave the chocolate for me.”

Carol rested the small plate on her lap. “I sat and had a long cry. I think I was at the breaking point and everything just needed some sort of release.”

“I’m glad that you were able to let it out. I know it isn’t a permanent solution, but keeping emotions bottled up is a sure fire way to get yourself sent to Sick Bay.” He leaned over and grabbed a piece of chocolate cake, picking the cherry off of the top and laying it on the tray. “I want you to know you can come to me any time. Don’t suffer alone.”

“Thank you…and not just for the cake.” She mustered a small smile.

McCoy took a bite of his dessert, savoring the sweetness of the buttercream icing. It truly was his favorite. His bliss was short-lived though, as the thoughts of what had happened earlier in the brig surfaced again. He knew he should tell Carol what happened—but she had finally seemed at ease and he didn’t want to ruin what little peace she had. He sighed deeply.

“Look, Carol…I feel like I should tell you something, but…”

“But what?”

“After all you’ve been through today and to see that you’ve calmed a bit…”

“You can tell me, Leonard. Jim did something else, didn’t he?”

McCoy sighed and shook his head. “He attacked me through the medical iris on his cell. I had to sedate him.”

Carol’s eyes saddened and she set her plate down on the table, pushing it away from her. “He’s getting worse.”

“Yeah. The outbursts are coming with increased frequency.”

“I’m so scared for him, Leonard. Now even more than before. I…” She tapped her fingers together nervously in her lap. “I’m starting to believe that he can’t be saved.”

McCoy didn’t want to tell her that he was beginning to share in her sentiment. So instead, he flubbed the truth of his feelings to fit the moment. “Look, I know things seem really bleak right now. But if we all give up on him, who’ll be left to try and get a miracle to happen?”

_Miracle?_

_That’s a load of bullshit._

“You know, every time I think I’m starting to be able to come to terms with what’s happening—and what’s happened already—he just gets under my skin again or lashes out at the people he’s supposed to love.” She absentmindedly picked at the crumbs on her plate. “I know he’s not in control. I _know_ it’s not ‘him’…but when I see his face as he’s saying all those awful things…” She let her head droop and began to cry softly.

“Carol, look at me.” He gently tapped her hand to get her attention. “I’m going to fix him. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him lose everything he’s worked so hard for because of this.”

_I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose…_

_…him._

Carol didn’t reply and they both sat in silence as the mess hall ice cream melted.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Dissociation: Chapter Eleven

                Thirty-three hours.

That’s how long Leonard McCoy had been functioning on no sleep and little food. Tons of coffee, yes—but the only thing he had eaten in the last day was a replicated bagel with suspect replicated cream cheese.

He had been poring over countless Starfleet records and medical journals, most for the second or third time. Nothing seemed to be happening, and his Captain was quickly running out of time—and options.

Every search he had initiated had brought no results. From genome sequencing trials to stem cell research, nothing seemed to yield anything of use. He wished he had a time machine. Then he could just go back to before they ever went toe-to-toe with Khan and put a bullet in the bastard’s head when he came on board.

_Focus on the present!_

McCoy grumbled and reached for his empty coffee cup. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to function much longer running on only caffeine. If something didn’t give soon, he would fall over from sheer exhaustion—and have nothing to show for it.

He rose and lumbered over to the replicator, his tired legs quite unwilling to oblige him. Resting his weary head against the wall, he ordered up another cup and made his way back to his desk. Leonard was so tired of looking over the same materials over and over again. He was about ready to give up and just inject Kirk with motor oil or some random chemical.

As the thought crossed his mind, his entire body seized, the coffee cup hovering millimeters from his lips.

_Random chemical._

_Chemicals…_

“Holy shit!” His voice bounced off the walls of his office and into Sick Bay. The staff stopped what they were doing, a few nurses turning to look through the window with confused expressions.

But McCoy didn’t care.

He may have just found a way to save Kirk.

Slamming his coffee cup down with a whoop, his fingers began to fly over his keyboard as he prayed that he would find whatever it was he thought he was looking for.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“Len, what’s wrong? You never wake me up in the middle of the night unless it’s an emergency.”

M’Benga rubbed his eyes as he entered McCoy’s office. It was well past midnight, and Sick Bay was quiet. Usually Leonard would have felt bad about waking his colleague, but tonight—no, this breakthrough definitely couldn’t wait until morning.

“Nothin’s wrong, in fact—everything may have just turned incredibly right.”

Geoff’s eyes lit up. “What are you talking about? You don’t mean…”

McCoy actually smiled. Not big and not for long, but he did. “C’mere and pull up a chair.”

The other man pulled a chair over to Leonard’s side and concentrated his attention on the computer screen. Chemical equations and graphs floated around before his eyes.

“Do you see it?”

M’Benga shook his head. “All I see is stuff that gave me nightmares in the Academy. Chemistry is _not_ my strong suit.”

“But chemistry is what’s going to save Jim—hopefully.”

Geoff gave his friend a puzzled look. “How?”

“I had almost given up hope, and joked to myself in desperation that I was about ready to just inject Jim with some random chemicals. And then it hit me. The chemicals might be the answer.” He rearranged the icons on the screen and brought up the image of a medical journal—over two-hundred years old. “Lemme ask you a question. How do we cure cancer nowadays?”

“Gene therapy, mostly.”

“And do you remember how they treated cancer back in the old days? Before there was a cure?”

M’Benga sighed and scowled. “Chemotherapy. It basically killed your blood cells so you could start over fresh. It must have been awf—“

McCoy looked at him with piqued brows.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Len. Chemo? That’s crazy—and way too simple.”

“Maybe.   But hear me out before you put me on the cross, alright?”

M’Benga rose and headed towards the replicator as he responded. “I think I need a cup of coffee for this. Want one?”

McCoy shook his head and began to speak. “After the notion hit me, I started bringing up really old records. We were so focused on the medicine of _today_ , that we forgot about the past.”

“There’s a reason the medical techniques of the past are forgotten, Len. They were barbaric.”

“True, but they were also useful and got results—mostly.” He brought up a scanned image of an old journal and M’Benga leaned forward to look at the screen. “There was a study done in the late twenty-first century using a highly experimental chemical therapy aimed at treating and hopefully curing pancreatic cancer.”

“Len, I hate to break it to you, but the Captain’s pancreas is just fine. It’s his blood that’s the problem.”

“I know that, dammit. Hear me out.” McCoy scowled. “There was a side-effect from the chemical cocktail they used that also ended up stripping the blood of the patient. It never did cure pancreatic cancer, but did a hell of a number on the immune systems of the recipients.”

“And you think…”

“I think that we can use this compound to, for all intents and purposes—bleach Jim’s blood. Give him a clean slate and wipe out all those asshole’s cells and antibodies and whatever the hell else if floating around in there.”

“So Khan’s cells are the cancer.”

“Exactly.” McCoy inhaled deeply. “And this treatment is like chemotherapy on overdrive.”

M’Benga sat silently for a moment, thinking. He finally posed a question. “If this treatment was so successful in cleaning the blood, why didn’t they use it for something else? I mean, yes it didn’t cure the cancer they intended it to, but it seems to me that it still could have had some merit.”

“Well, it had a tendency to…kill most of the patients it was administered to.” McCoy’s shoulders sagged. M’Benga moved to speak, but Leonard cut him off. “But, I feel that with Jim’s strength from Khan’s blood, at least in the beginning, that he has a much better chance of surviving the treatment than a normal person.   But, it’s not guaranteed.”

“You’re willing to risk the Captain’s life on a hunch?”

“This ‘hunch’ is the best and only thing we have going for us, Geoff. We both know what will happen if we don’t fix this.”

M’Benga sighed deeply. “You’re right. Even though I hate that this is so risky and dangerous…you’ve got a point. This is the Captain’s only shot.”

“Exactly. So let’s get off our asses and get cracking. Jim needs us.”

 

 

XxX   XxX XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX

 

Jim watched as both McCoy and M’Benga strode into the brig. They were both carrying Med Kits, McCoy with a PADD cradled under his arm. Both men had a determined expression. They acknowledged the guard and made their way to his cell.

Kirk had to admit that he was feeling much better today. When he had awakened a couple days back from the sedative his CMO had given him, his head hurt and his body was weak. But—there were no signs of the other Jim. And he’d take a headache over that bastard any day.

He wanted “him” to stay away. Nothing good ever came from his alter ego making an appearance. He had hurt Carol—physically and emotionally—had gravely injured Chekov and had alienated his crew. The ship had been put in danger because he was, quite literally, out of his mind.

Jim just wished he could put a phaser to his head and be done with it.

Kirk stood and moved towards the glass as the men approached. McCoy spoke first.

“’Mornin’, Jim. How’re you feeling today?”

“Better.” Kirk cast his gaze down to the floor. “Look, Bones…I’m sorry for—“

“You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for. Now put your arm through the hole.”

M’Benga activated the iris in the glass and Kirk obeyed. Both men were strangely silent. No small talk, no conferring between the two of them. The Captain was used to McCoy being curt and to the point sometimes, but M’Benga always had a smile on his face and something to say. Jim knew something was up.

Thirty seconds later, several small containers were filled with his blood and Jim retracted his limb. Kirk rubbed his forearm with a wince. “What’s going on? You two are acting weird. Quiet…”

The two physicians exchanged glances that he could only describe as “concerned hopefulness.” McCoy placed the vials of the Captain’s blood into his Med Kit and closed it up.

“Look, I don’t want to get your hopes up, but…” McCoy’s eyebrows rose. “…we think we have _potentially_ stumbled onto a treatment that may help you.”

Jim couldn’t believe his ears. He had pretty much given up hope that anything would ever be able to be done for him. He had resigned to the fact that when they returned to Earth, he would be imprisoned in the psychiatric wing of a maximum-security prison, never to see the light of day again.

“You don’t sound so optimistic.”

McCoy sighed. “It’s a shot in the dark, Jim, but it’s the only option we have right now. And frankly, I think it may be the only one we’ll be given.”

Kirk nodded and readied himself. “Well, lay it on me.”

“We’ve been working with remaining blood samples from you that we had stored. We ran out…and needed more to finish the research. Jim, I’m going to be honest that I don’t really know if it’ll work.”

“If what’ll work? Bones, you haven’t even told me anything yet!”

M’Benga chimed in. “Captain, he’s just being cautious. We don’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Gentlemen, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m locked in the brig with nothing to lose. Hope is something I ran out of a long time ago.”

McCoy exhaled deeply and began. “You ever heard of chemotherapy?”

“Yes. It was used to treat cancer in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.” He paused, then cocked his head quizzically. “You want to pump me full of chemicals, don’t you?”

“In layman’s terms—yes.” McCoy just stared at him. “Khan’s cells are mutating and taking over, like a cancer.”

Jim stood silently for a moment before throwing his arms wide. “Let’s do it! What’s there to lose?”

“Jim…I don’t think you’re understanding the ramifications of this. We haven’t even explained everything to you yet.” McCoy’s eyes were pleading.

“What’s there to explain? You’ve discovered a potential treatment. Let’s get moving.”

“Captain,” M’Benga stepped forward. “It’s not that simple. This is a brutal treatment. It will make you violently ill, your hair will fall out, you’ll be weaker than you’ve ever been in your entire life…even more so than when you were…” The doctor’s eyes lowered to the floor as he stopped himself.

Jim moved closer to the barrier and placed his open palm against it. “Guys, I don’t have any other choice—and neither do you.”

“Listen, Jim…” McCoy’s voice was hushed and reverent. “This might not work. It might end up killing you.”

“Then that would be a fate better than lifetime incarceration and living with this monster inside of me.”

“It’s not that simple, dammit! Even if it didn’t kill you right away, getting rid of the remainder of Khan’s cells may not solve anything. You might still kick the bucket because I don’t know if Khan’s cells are playing a major role in keeping you alive. That shit may have infiltrated your body systems so much that you can’t live without it.”

“Bones, I’m doomed if you don’t try. If we do it and it kills me, we’ll know that we all _at least tried._ ”

“But you’d be dead.”

“I’d be at peace.” Jim sighed and his breath fogged on the glass. “This is tearing me apart. I can’t live like this anymore—can’t torture my friends and colleagues any longer. I need to do this. I—we need to take this risk.”

M’Benga and McCoy exchanged glances before turning back to their Captain. McCoy’s tone was determined. “Well God help us, then. Let’s get this ball rolling.”

Kirk grinned. “Bones, if I could, I’d slap you on the shoulder for old-time’s sake.”

“I know, kid.” McCoy gathered his Med Kit and motioned for M’Benga to follow him. “We’ll get to work right away. You just sit tight.”

Jim laughed with a snort. “Couldn’t go anywhere if I tried.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

**The Next Day**

 

_“Doctor McCoy, get down here quick!”_

The Doctor almost fell out of his desk chair at the sound of the urgent comm. He slammed his finger down on the keypad and replied to the frantic officer.

“What’s going on?” He screamed into the open air of his office, scrambling to grab his Med Kit and PADD. Even before he had verbal conformation, he knew what was more than likely going on.

_“The Captain, Sir…”_

“I’ll be right there!” McCoy ran out of his office and bolted past the startled personnel watching him with concern-laced expressions.

His feet slammed against the polished corridor floor as he dashed towards the turbolift that would take him to the brig. He was terrified of what he would see—or encounter. A million scenarios flew through his mind.

Had Jim somehow managed to break out? Was he being so abusive that the officers were no longer able to look after him? Had he taken a hostage?

_Jesus, why can’t this just be fixed?_

The lift arrived and he was catapulted down to the brig seconds later. As he emerged from the lift car, he could hear yelling coming from down the hall. Urgent, unhinged yelling.

_“You bastards had better let me out! I’m your goddamned Captain!”_

Loud thuds accompanied the screaming, coming at intermittent intervals.

_“I’ll have you both court martialed!”_

The security team pleaded with Kirk to calm himself. McCoy could hear the frantic tone to their voices. But the banging never ceased—and Jim’s voice just got more and more out of control.

_“You motherfuckers are on McCoy’s side! He told you not to let me out!”_

The Doctor rounded the corner and skidded to a halt when he entered the brig. His mouth hung open and the Med Kit dropped from his hand.

Jim had actually cracked the glass.

Granted, the “glass” wasn’t really glass at all, more like a plasma-charged hybrid polymer that could be manipulated to accept the movement of a closeable iris. The mechanics and science of the stuff was way over McCoy’s head, and frankly, he didn’t give a damn anyway.   As long as it kept prisoners in—he was happy.

And now—it was beginning to fail.

McCoy was terrified.

If the barrier somehow broke and Jim escaped—McCoy would have no choice but to order the officers to shoot. And their weapons were not set to stun.

Leonard ran towards the insane Captain and stared in horror. Jim was sweating profusely, his shirt lying in tatters on the floor of his cell. Angry bruises specked his skin and his shoulder blade—the one he was using as a ram—was raw and bleeding. Blood streaked down the cell wall at the impact site.

Kirk didn’t seem to see him right away. He had staggered himself, more than likely from the fierce beating his body was taking, and was trying to regain his balance. But when he had shaken off the apparent haze, he began his barrage once again. Only this time—his anger was focused on his best friend.

“Fuck you, Doctor McCoy!”

Leonard raised his hands in a submissive gesture. He didn’t want to egg the young Captain on any more than he needed to. “Jim, listen to me. You need to calm down.”

Kirk laughed maniacally as he continued to bang his body against the partition. “I’m going to get out of here, _Leonard._ And when I do, the first one I’m going to kill is you!” He slammed his forehead into the wall, leaving a splatter of blood on the glass and a cut at his hairline.

McCoy flinched before moving closer to his manic friend. “Kid…you need to stop. You’re going to really hurt yourself.”

“Good!” Kirk repeatedly rammed his skull into the barrier, blood splattering onto the floor. The crimson liquid ran down his cheeks and onto his chest.  “Maybe that will be evidence enough to get your commission taken away once we get back to Earth! Starfleet’ll know you’re behind all this!”

“Behind what? You’re in there for your own protection—and ours.”

“You’re a smug bastard, you know that, McCoy?” Kirk rammed his shoulder into the barrier, the hairline crack growing a few inches in the process. Blood flowed freely from a fresh wound on the Captain’s arm. “…and you’re going to pay for putting me in here! Admiral Keyes will have your medical license and you’ll be forced to go back to Bumblefuck, Georgia with your tail between your legs! You’ll be a disgrace!”

Leonard knew this was the “other Jim”—but he still couldn’t help but feel hurt by Kirk’s words. His friend would never say such venomous things. His friend wouldn’t purposely attack his career’s achievements. His friend—wouldn’t be in there in the first place if it wasn’t for Khan.

What McCoy wouldn’t give to have just five minutes alone with the guy. Not that he could have even scratched—the Augment strength would have made quick work of the Doctor—but if he could have hurt him, he would have.

Hurt him for killing Pike.

Hurt him for destroying the _Enterprise._

Hurt him for—doing this to Jim.

He watched helplessly as Kirk bashed his bruised and battered body into the partition again and again, his strength fading with each hit. Wanting to go in and do _something_ , but knowing that if he did so it would mean certain death—he instead waited for Kirk’s body to give out on him. It was cruel, but his only option.

Over and over, the young Captain smashed himself into the barrier, blood splattering across every surface in the cell.

“Fuck you! Fuck you!” Kirk repeated the phrase with malice in his voice. He backed up and began to run at the glass. McCoy instinctively steeled himself, ready for Jim to come crashing through the barrier.

“Fuck… _you_!”

The Doctor recoiled on the last blow, the sound of Kirk’s body smashing the cell wall reverberating through the brig. The hit was so devastating that Jim fell like a boulder to the floor, unconscious before his head even hit the ground.

McCoy heard one of the security officers let out a long, relieved breath. He couldn’t blame the young man, for he had done the same thing along with him. Standing motionless for a long moment just staring at Kirk’s body on the floor of his cell, he felt his cheeks flush. A mixture of sadness and anger rushed over him. His best friend—Starfleet’s Golden Boy—lay motionless on the floor, his head and shoulder bleeding. This was not how it was supposed to be. Jim was _supposed_ to be on the bridge, charging off into the galaxy as the champion of the Federation.

And instead—he was spiraling into madness that McCoy wasn’t all sure he could fix.

But he would be damned if he wouldn’t go down fighting. Jim was counting on him. The crew was counting on him. Starfleet was counting on him.

He couldn’t fail.

“Lopez, open the cell.” McCoy’s voice was monotone and matter-of-fact.

“Are…are you sure, Doctor?”

“Just do it.” The Doctor retrieved his Med Kit and curled his fingers tightly around the handle. Seconds later, a side door opened, giving him access to the small enclosed space. The strong smell of blood and sweat permeated his nostrils. McCoy approached cautiously, hoping to God that he didn’t stir.

Jim lay on the floor, his unconscious body still heaving as his lungs automatically drew in air. Blood pooled around his head, soaking his hair and staining the floor. Taking no chances, McCoy immediately sedated the Captain. He didn’t want to risk having Kirk wake up while was treating his wounds.

He briefly looked up to notice the two officers staring into the cell, morbidly curious about what was going on. McCoy didn’t blame them—he’d be looking too if he had just witnessed the whole crazy scene without a medical knowledge of the situation. He just kept a stoic expression and silently got back to work. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw them return to their posts.

Turning Jim over so he was on his back, McCoy got to work with the wounds. He took a sterile cloth form his Med Kit and began to dab at the weeping gash on Kirk’s head. The laceration on his scalp was deep, and would require a few minutes with a regenerator to heal.

Sighing heavily, he attached the small device to Jim’s skin and activated it, a soft blue glow enveloping the area. As the machine worked, he busied himself with checking all the other wounds that dotted Kirk’s body. The shoulder he had used to ram into the cell wall was oozing blood. As McCoy wiped away the thick liquid, he was at least relieved to see that the bleeding was coming from a relatively small wound and would be easy to close. The surrounding skin was mottled with angry bruises that would no doubt linger for weeks.

_If Jim lived that long._

For the first time since this whole debacle started, the Doctor was actually beginning to fear that Kirk wouldn’t survive. Whether it was from the treatment he and M’Benga were close to administering—or by circumstances that only Kirk controlled.

He carefully wiped the blood from Jim’s skin with an antiseptic solution, just in case there were small abrasions that he couldn’t see. Satisfied when Jim’s shoulder and arm were adequately cleansed, he clumsily swiped at the blood on the floor with the cloth, smearing it around as he tried to clean it up. After a few passes, the substance was more or less gone, and the remainder would dry to the surface, a grim reminder of what had transpired.

After a long moment, he collapsed back onto his rear end, bringing his knees up to his body. He let his head hang between his thighs and he stared at the floor.

He felt defeated. Like he had let Jim down.

Like—Khan had won.

The regenerator beeped and he removed it to inspect the newly-healed wound. In a few days, the pink scar left in its wake would be totally gone, leaving no reminder of the days’ events.

Haphazardly tossing the small item back into his Med Kit, he just stared at Jim. He was looking at a shell of a man. His friend was no longer inhabiting this world—a madman had taken his place.

_Christ, I hope this treatment works._

_I can’t see him like this anymore._

_I…can’t doom him to a life filled with this kind of turmoil._

Not bothering to put Kirk on the small bed jutting out of the wall, he rose and exited the cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to everyone for sticking around, I know this chapter is--*gulp*-- seven months overdue. Life happens to us all, and it happened here. I hope this chapter was worth the wait.


	12. Dissociation:  Chapter Twelve

Dissociation: Chapter Twelve

**Four Days Later**

                Leonard McCoy stared at the vial in his hands.

Cool and clear, the liquid inside sloshed slightly as he curled his fingers around the receptacle. Contained for only hours more, it would soon be flashing through Jim’s veins, the first in what was to be several doses.

He closed his eyes and sighed. Within a days’ time, Jim would be sick. Vomiting, chills, fatigue and any other number of symptoms that would strike. He’d be at risk for secondary infections as the chemicals destroyed his immune system. And that was even before his hair fell out.

Was he really going to subject Kirk to this torture?

_Yes._

_Because he’s as good as dead if you don’t._

_He’ll live out the rest of his life in confinement—and in his mind, that’s as final as the grave._

He knew he should get up from his desk: go to the brig to retrieve Jim. But—something was keeping him there. He didn’t know if it was guilt, exhaustion or fear—or a little bit of all three. The exhaustion he understood, as did he the guilt.

But fear? What was he afraid of? He was a grown man, for Christ’s sakes. He shouldn’t be afraid of anything anymore. It had been decades since he feared the monsters under his bed or the Boogeyman that he claimed lived in the tree outside his window. He knew monsters didn’t exist.

They didn’t exist—until last year.

Then Khan had come on his ship—Kirk’s ship—and had destroyed it one piece at a time, until it was a ghost of what it once was. And he had taken her Captain along for the ride. Jim had given his life to save her and the crew, and as his lungs were filling with fluid and his blood boiled within his veins, all he cared about was whether or not the ship was out of danger.

All that pain and suffering to ensure the safety of every single life left living on his dying ship.

Pain and suffering that was about to come back.

But now, instead of radiation eating away Jim—it was going to be chemicals.

McCoy pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew this was their only hope. The only chance to give the young Captain a shot at getting his life back. If it didn’t work, there would be nothing left.

“Goddammit.”

The Doctor pushed back from his desk and slipped the vial into his pocket. Grabbing the Med Kit he had prepared earlier, he somberly made his way out of Medical to go retrieve his friend.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“Hey, Bones.”

Jim sat on the small bed in his cell; his body slumped as if in defeat. The small pink scar left by the regenerator was barely visible in his hairline. The voice that fell from his lips was small sounding, the strength and fight having left him long ago.

_At least it’s the Jim I know._

_For now._

“Mornin’ Jim. Feeling better?”

“Define ‘better’.” A small smirk crossed his lips before he rose and approached the cell wall. “Look, I’m sorry for everyt—“

McCoy held up a hand. “Forget it, kid. An apology isn’t necessary.”

“But it is.”

“Nope. That was in the past, and it most certainly wasn’t you.” He pulled the vial out of his pocket and held it up.

“So that’s it, huh?” Kirk moved closer to the glass and peered at the small container. “Doesn’t look like much.” He started to roll up his sleeve.

“Not so fast. You’re not gettin’ this in here.”

Jim quirked an eyebrow. “You’re not seriously considering letting me out?”

McCoy pocketed the receptacle once more. “Listen, I can’t monitor you like I need to in the brig. And if this shit works like I hope it will—we’ll see a change in your behavior sooner than later.”

“You can’t bring me to Medical. I’m too much of a risk—we both know that.”

“I’m the CMO and it’s my Sick Bay. I make the decisions.” He sighed deeply. “Besides, you’ll be out cold when I administer the juice. I’m not wakin’ you up for a while after.”

Kirk inhaled deeply before letting the breath out through his nose. “Still. I think it would be better to treat me in here.”

“Noted—and ignored.” McCoy smirked.

“You’re lucky I’m in here, or I’d write you up for insubordination.”

“No you wouldn’t. You’re too nice.”

Jim managed a small smile before speaking again, his tone hushed. “Bones?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Do you think I can fix this whole thing with Carol?”

_How the hell should I know?_

_You really fucked up._

_But…it wasn’t really ‘you’, was it?_

“She’s really torn, Jim. You scared the shit out of her.”

Kirk nodded solemnly and sank down to the floor, legs crossing under his body. “I can still see myself hovering over her. She was terrified. I just kept assaulting her even when she begged me to stop.”

“You two’ll have a lot to work on, that’s for damn sure. But it’s nothin’ that can’t be fixed. She knows you weren’t in control.”

“I raped her, Bones! I care about her so much…and I _raped_ her.”

McCoy knelt down next to the glass. “Yes, you did. But it was your physical body doing the actions—not your heart. That fucking monster inside of you wants to be in charge, and you’re powerless to stop him.”

“I hate this feeling.”

“I know, Jim. But I’m going to fix it.”

Kirk looked up at him with hopeful eyes. “Promise?”

McCoy opened the iris on the wall and beckoned for Jim’s arm. When the young Captain eased his limb through, he pressed a hypospray into his skin. As Kirk’s arm slid back through the hole and his eyes fluttered shut under the influence of the heavy sedative, he replied softly.

“…promise.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

The isolation pod was guarded by four heavily armed security officers.

Two more stood just inside the perimeter of the room, phasers ready should the Captain wake up and lash out. With the door closed, no one could enter without permission, and the windows had been tinted black.

There were going to be no looky-loos.

McCoy stood at Kirk’s bedside. Jim had been restrained at both the wrists and ankles. Still unconscious from the heavy sedative load, his eyes fluttered under his lids.

Leonard hoped he was having peaceful dreams.

He hoped this would be over soon.

He hoped Jim would survive.

_I can’t lose him again._

“Len?”

M’Benga’s voice snapped McCoy from his thoughts. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to hide his clenched fists. There had only been one other time in his life that he had been this nervous. Go figure both instances involved Jim Kirk.

“Yeah?”

“The infusion is ready.” M’Benga handed him the IV bag. “I still wish there was a way to introduce this into his system without opening a vein. Seems barbaric.”

“Believe me, if I could do it differently, I would.” McCoy hung the bag next to Jim’s head. “But a hypo just won’t cut it with this shit. It needs to go in over a few hours. ”

“How many doses do you think he’ll need?”

McCoy attached the tubing from Kirk’s arm to the connector on the bag and started the drip. “Your guess is as good as mine, Geoff. At least four—and none of this ‘every other week’ shit. He’s getting it on a two-day cycle. One on…one off.”

He watched as the faint yellow-tinged liquid traveled down the tube and slowly began to drip into Jim’s arm.

_I hope I’m doing the right thing._

“Now we wait, huh?” M’Benga tapped a few commands into the computer terminal.

“Jim hates waiting.”

“Well then, I guess it’s a good thing he’s out cold.” M’Benga lightly clapped McCoy on the back with a smile. “It’ll work, Len.”

McCoy just nodded with a grunt and sat down next to his friend.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX

 

_“Bones? I think I’m gonna…”_

McCoy’s eyes snapped open just in time to see Kirk sit bolt upright and vomit all over the sheets. He had tried to cover his mouth, but with his arms restrained, he failed miserably. Scrambling to get a few towels, the Doctor nearly fell out of his chair. He hated the disorientation that came with a sudden awakening.

He was appalled when he finally got his bearings and got a good look at Jim.

Kirk looked like death warmed over.

Pale, waxy skin, sunken eyes and shaking hands. The effects of the treatment had already taken hold. Quickly looking at the clock, he realized he had been asleep for close to six hours. He immediately cursed himself for letting Kirk down and not being attentive.

_What the hell kind of CMO are you, falling asleep like that?_

Jim pulled at the cuffs as he tried to situate himself on the biobed. His face looked so sad. McCoy cursed under his breath and took a chance. He hoped he wouldn’t regret it. Reaching over, he un-did the restraint on Kirk’s left wrist.

“Bones…” Kirk’s face contorted as he grabbed a towel from from the bedside cart with his now free hand, and cupped it over his mouth, throwing up the contents of his stomach once again.

All at once, all the guilt he had ever felt came rushing back. The feelings from watching Kirk suffer as his body rebuilt itself after the radiation exposure, the raw emotions of being attacked and verbally abused by his insane best friend—the remorse he felt now for subjecting Jim to what was sure to be nothing short of hell.

Feeling as helpless as he did the day Kirk’s lifeless body was brought into Medical, he found all he could do was rub Jim’s back as he heaved. He grabbed an emesis basin held it under the young Captain’s chin, discarding the soiled towel down the trash chute behind the biobed.

After a long moment, Jim’s muscles seemed to relax and he sat back against the pillows. McCoy quickly tore the blankets from the bed and tossed them aside. Kirk immediately shivered, and Leonard grabbed another thin quilt from a cabinet recessed into the wall and covered his friend. Taking a cloth from the bedside cart, McCoy dipped it in a glass of water and wiped the remaining mess from Jim’s lips.

“Holy shit. I feel like something that fell straight from Satan’s asshole.” Kirk closed his eyes and sighed shakily.

“I bet.” Leonard offered him a glass of water.

Kirk shooed the drink away and tried to roll onto his side, but was stopped by the ankle restraints.

_Jesus, you’re just putting me in all kinds of situations today, aren’t you kid?_

McCoy leaned forward and looked Jim in the eyes. “Listen to me. I’ll take off the ankle cuffs so you can lie down properly, but know that there are two armed guards right outside the door. So, if that bastard knockin’ around in your brain decides to play rough, they’ll be on you like flies on shit. Got it?”

Kirk nodded wearily. “If he’s in there right now, hopefully he’s a sick as I am.”

“I’m sorry, kid. I know it sucks.” The Doctor sat again.

“So now what?”

McCoy sighed. “We wait.”

“When do I get more?”

“Day after tomorrow.” McCoy tapped his fingers on his thigh. “We’re doing this gung-ho style. This stuff needs to get into you fast, otherwise we’re afraid Khan’s cells will adapt and become resistant. We need to eradicate them before they have time to know what hit them.”

“I’m assuming that I’ll continue to feel like shit?”

“It’s more than likely going to get worse. A lot worse.” He almost didn’t want to look at his friend. “Chemotherapy isn’t nice to you. And…I’m gonna give you a booster here in a minute to bolster your immune system that you’re not going to like.”

Jim settled back into the bed and drew the blanket up under his chin with a shiver. “Tell me.”

“You really don’t want to know, Jim. It’s better not to dwell on it.”

“Whatever you say, Bones.” The young Captain’s eyelids began to droop. His voice was soft. “Do you remember that time in the Academy when I got influenza?”

“How could I forget? You ditched out on the vaccine and ended up sicker than a hound.”

“But you took care of me anyway—even after you yelled about the hypo.”

“Of course I took care of you. You’re my best friend. Besides, I couldn’t have you puking all over during the night and aspirating into your lungs. Because I sure as hell wasn’t about to explain your untimely demise to the housing board.”

Jim chuckled softly. “ _You see, Admiral—it’s like this. Cadet Kirk was stupid and didn’t listen to me and now he’s stiff as a board. Stinkin’ up our room, too.”_

“That’s pretty much how it would have happened, kid. Although I probably would have also asked to be given a single dorm room while I was at it. You know, because I was so distraught over losing my roommate.”

_It’s nice to have the ‘old’ Jim back._

_Jesus, I hope this works._

“You should get some res—“ McCoy stopped himself. Kirk had fallen asleep, one hand tucked under his cheek like a child in his bed. He almost couldn’t believe that, at any moment, the maniac living in Jim’s mind could rear his ugly head.

McCoy wanted nothing more than to be rid of that bastard forever. And he knew Jim—the real Jim—felt the same way.

The doctor shifted uncomfortably on the backless stool and wished he had a proper chair in which to sit vigil.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

McCoy straightened his tunic as he exited the small bathroom on the edge of Sick Bay.

Medical was quiet this time of night. Just how he liked it. The skeleton crew of nurses flitted between the few occupied beds, and the medical student they had taken on at the last Starbase sat hunched over a microscope in the lab. He had told her to go back to her cabin hours ago to get some sleep, but she had refused. Instead, she pored over test results stemming from her research into Andorian Shingles. A girl after his own heart, he had thought.

He turned his attention to Jim’s door and was surprised to see Carol Marcus.

She was dressed in her uniform, no doubt coming off of a long shift day. Her hair was somewhat messed, her shoulders slumped. She looked just about as tired as he was.

“Carol? It’s awful late.”

The science officer turned at his voice, forcing a small smile as he approached.

“It’s all the same time when you’re out in the black, Doctor.”

“True. But it’s still way past your bedtime.” He winked and patted her shoulder.

She sighed and turned back to the locked door, the armed guards standing silently at either side. They stood like sentinels, not interfering with their conversation. “How is he?”

“Holding his own.”

“He won’t answer my comms. I even tried sending him a text message through my PADD. I know he saw it. I don’t really know what I intended to say to him, though. I guess its better that he didn’t respond.”

“He’s in a bad way, Carol. If it makes you feel any better, he won’t even let Spock see him.”

McCoy’s heart broke for her—for them both. He knew that Jim felt like garbage, both physically and emotionally. If Leonard had been in the same situation, he wouldn’t want any contact with anyone else either.

“I tell you what: give me a minute to check on him and I’ll see if I can’t give you at least a peek, okay? But I’m not guaranteeing anything.”

Carol nodded silently as McCoy accessed the computer system. He activated the in-room camera and saw that Jim was fast asleep. What the kid didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, right?

“Hey guys, take a few minutes’ break, alright?” He clapped one of the security officers on the arm and motioned towards the replicator. “Have some fake coffee on me.”

The two men acknowledged him with a smile and followed his suggestion. When they were safely out of range, McCoy made sure there were no onlookers and un-tinted the window.

Jim lay on his side, his skin pale and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His arms were wrapped tightly around his abdomen, no doubt in an attempt to keep the nausea at bay. His brows were furrowed in his sleep, as if he were being tormented in his dreams. One foot poked out from underneath the blanket, a cuff visible around his ankle tethering him to the biobed.

“Oh Leonard…” Carol’s hand immediately shot up to cover her mouth. Her eyes squeezed shut, tears sliding from their corners seconds later. “He looks like death.”

McCoy couldn’t argue with that. Kirk was beginning to look like he had in the first few months of his recovery from the warp core.

And it terrified the good Doctor.

“I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”

“No. I needed to see for myself, even if it was terrible.” She looked away. “You can tint the window again.”

He silently flicked his finger over the computer pad and the window went black once more. Carol stood quietly beside him for a long moment before turning to him and wrapping her tiny arms around his body in a tight embrace.

She cried onto his chest, her tears leaving a damp spot on the fabric.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX

 

_Leonard McCoy, Personal Log, Stardate 2263.145: It’s been just over a week since I gave Jim the treatment. I don’t know who’s more miserable—him or me._

_His hair is falling out, he’s lost almost fifteen pounds and he refuses to eat because he’s so nauseous. I’ve resorted to keeping an IV line in to give him some sort of basic nutrients._

_And I have to give him more of the shit tomorrow._

_I’m such a bastard._

_I can’t stand looking at him right now. And I’m aware that those feelings make me a horrible person. He’s just so frail and unhappy—and it breaks my heart. I find myself avoiding his room, trying to make excuses why I can’t go in. And then I tell myself that it’s my fault he’s in this predicament in the first place and to suck it up._

_He needs me more than ever right now, especially since he won’t let anyone else other than M’Benga take care of him. But I’m so goddamned exhausted. I spend every waking hour in Medical—I don’t think I’ve seen my quarters in days. I’m sure my uniform stinks, that’s for sure. Come to think of it, I’m surprised M’Benga hasn’t kicked me out to take a shower._

_I finally had to come clean with the Admirals, and let me tell you—they were pissed. I don’t blame them, and of course, they demanded that we return to Earth as fast as we could. They lost their minds when they realized we had all been keeping this from them—everything. I mean, Kirk nearly killed Chekov, assaulted Uhura and has been in the brig for more time than I care to admit. We always had a reason why he couldn’t answer comms or why he wasn’t available at the moment, but I guess we ran out of excuses. I’m actually shocked we kept up the guise as long as we did. It’s my fault—I made the decisions to not tell the brass. If anyone gets canned from this whole shit storm, it should be me._

_They seemed to at least accept the mental illness card, but were very quick to point out that any suspicion of such an ailment should have been reported immediately, no matter how far away we were from Earth. I know they kind of understood the reason we kept things from them—I mean, I was busy trying to save Jim’s life. And Chekov’s. I know there were times where I could have taken a moment to apprise them of the situation. But truth be told, I felt like a scared kid having to come clean to their mama for breaking a window. I knew better than to keep anything from them, but I guess I thought that maybe—just maybe—I could fix everything before they got suspicious._

_I’m such a fool._

_I’m pretty sure I’m going to be court martialed when we get back. And I totally deserve it. I broke every rule in the book, kept an insane Captain from the Federation and tried to get away with hiding all this shit. I don’t deserve to keep my title—or position._

_And I’ll totally take my punishment like a man—because Jim’s recovery means more to me than Starfleet._

_The kid refuses to see Carol, and Spock has been on my ass like a leech for any information. Problem is, there isn’t a lot I can give him right now. I know Starfleet is breathing down his neck because they won’t leave me alone, either._

_It’s the same old shit. They comm every day, and I tell them the same thing—that we’re waiting to see what happens. And let me tell you, the brass is about as patient as a kid waiting for Santa Claus._

_I guess the silver lining in all of this bullshit is that his bloodwork is showing some hopeful signs. The enzymes in his brain that we thought were causing all the trouble seem to be shrinking. They’re still there, but we can actually see them shriveling before our eyes._

_And there’s been no sign of the other Jim. It’s hard to believe that we’ve been living with that asshole for all these weeks and he might actually be gone. We won’t know for sure until we get a total brain scan to see if the enzymes have left detached themselves from his brain cells, but everything seems to be pointing towards M’Benga and me hitting the jackpot._

_I’m cautiously optimistic that this might really be working._

_Of course, it’s not happening fast enough for Starfleet, but they can all kiss my hairy Southern ass. It’s not like I can rush this._

_I just want this to be over._

_I want to be able to fix Jim and get back out to doing what we do best. There’s a whole galaxy out there for James T. Kirk to raise hell in—and I’ll be damned if he’s gonna miss out on it._

_//sniffing sound//_

_Christ, I really need a shower. I stink like a fucking mule._

_End log._


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Dissociation: Chapter Thirteen

**Five Days Later**

 

 

“Doctor, may I come in?”

McCoy looked up to see Spock, already well inside the threshold of his office.

“You’re already in the goddamned room, Spock.”

The Vulcan looked down at his feet. “So I am.”

“Well don’t just stand there—get over here and sit down. You’re freaking me out hoverin’ there like a statue.”

The First Officer raised an eyebrow before moving to sit. He clasped his hands on his lap. “Starfleet has informed me that you are no longer accepting their comms.”

“You cut right to the chase, don’t you?” McCoy scowled and leaned back in his chair. “I haven’t answered them because I don’t have anything to report and I’m getting tired of them riding my ass.”

“Doctor, may I remind you that we are all under intense scrutiny at the moment. The Admiralty is very upset over what has transpired aboard this ship in the previous weeks. It would be wise to appease them and keep contact.”

“So you’re basically telling me to suck it up and give them what they want?”

“They are your words, Doctor, not mine.”

McCoy sighed heavily. He knew the Vulcan was right. Ignoring Starfleet wouldn’t help in the long run, but he was just so blasted tired of telling them nothing had changed since the first treatment. Now Jim was one week in and he was beginning to lose all hope that it was actually going to work.

Since the first infusion, where the cells had been responding to the chemicals, there had been little or no significant change. Sure, they hadn’t come back to what they once were—but they hadn’t shrunk any either. He and M’Benga kept pumping him full of chemicals every other day, the effects of the high doses wreaking havoc on Jim’s system.

Failure just wasn’t an option.

He recalled back to the day before, when Jim had tried to run a hand through his hair—only to have it come out in his fingers in clumps. From everything McCoy had read about chemotherapy, it took weeks for hair to start to fall out—and here Jim’s was in his hands in a matter of days. If that didn’t demonstrate the awesome, horrible power of the junk they were filtering though his veins, nothing did.

“You’re right, dammit.”

McCoy swore the man smirked.

“I did not come here to belittle you, Doctor. Please do not believe that was my intent. I merely—“

“I know. Thanks for letting me know they’re pissed. I’ll contact them this afternoon.”

“May I inquire about the Captain’s condition?”

McCoy turned his computer monitor towards Spock and pointed at a spot on the screen. “There’s the original labs—and there’s the latest ones, taken this morning. You can see that the enzymes have decreased in size, but not as much as we would have liked to see with the amount of poison we’re flooding him with.”

“He is making progress.”

“If you can call it that. But there’s just so much we can pour into him before we kill him. M’Benga and I have one more titration to make and that’ll be it. If this last mega dose doesn’t show some significant results, we’re going to have to abort.” McCoy sighed defeatedly.

“I have the utmost confidence in both you and Doctor M’Benga.”

McCoy couldn’t believe his ears. “Did you just…compliment me?”

“I stated the obvious, Doctor. You both are very seasoned and educated physicians and your medical expertise has shown merit on many occasions.”

“Well I’ll be damned. That w _as_ a compliment. I didn’t know you had it in you, Spock.”

“You have misunderstood my meaning. I am, as the Captain would say, ‘chalking it up’ to your basic human brain and the ever-present need to, again quoting the Captain, ‘see between the lines’.”

McCoy smiled wryly. “Whatever you say, Spock. You’re secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell anyone that you have a soft side.”

The Vulcan stood, straightening the bottom of his uniform top. “I must return to the bridge. Please keep me informed if there are any changes in Captain Kirk’s condition.”

As soon as he was out of the room, McCoy erupted into laughter, certain he had detected a green hue blushing across the First Officer’s cheeks. It was just the little distraction he needed.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

Kirk’s isolation room was dark, but McCoy could hear his labored breathing before he could see the man making the sound. Every few seconds, a soft moan emanated from the direction of the biobed.

Clutched in his hand, he held the final chemical infusion for Jim. If this one didn’t give them a significant boost in progress—well, he didn’t want to think about it.

“Lights thirty-five percent.”

Jim immediately stirred in the bed, rolling over and pulling his arms tightly across his stomach. “Bones…turn the lights off.”

“I will in a minute, kid. Just have to give you more of the juice.” He moved closer, wincing at the sight of more loose hair on Kirk’s pillow. His eyes lingered on Jim’s head for a long moment, lost in the field of bald patches. Thinking briefly about offering to shave his friend’s head to even things out, he ultimately decided against even bringing it up.

“Please hurry…the light is making me feel sicker.”

McCoy silently attached tubing in Jim’s arm to the bottom coupling of the IV bag and hung it next to the bed. After watching the flow for a few seconds, he was satisfied it was entering Kirk’s veins and once again dimmed the lights.

“…thanks…” Jim sighed feebly and rubbed at the irritated skin around the intravenous port. “I hate this thing. I kind of wish you had a hypo right now.”

“Now I _know_ you’re not feelin’ right, talking like that.”

Jim rolled over onto his other side to face his friend. “Is it working?”

McCoy sighed and sat on the rolling stool at the bedside. “Not as much as we hoped, but…yes. I’m confident that this dose will kick everything into high gear and bust ass.”

“Is this the _last_ dose?” Jim’s voice was weak.

“Yeah.” He reached over and repositioned the tape on Jim’s arm. “And then we wait.”

“I’m bad at waiting.” Kirk tried to crack a smile.

“Tell me about it. I recall a certain Captain ruining his surprise birthday party because he couldn’t stop snooping.”

“Uhura was pissed. I thought she’d never forgive me.” Jim’s eyes saddened. “Forgiveness…I don’t think I’m gonna get it a second time.”

“Everyone knows it wasn’t ‘you’, kid. That doesn’t mean it still won’t take a long time for all this shit to be worked out and mended, but your crew loves you. They don’t abandon you.”

“You’re a shitty liar, Bones.”

McCoy sighed. He knew Kirk had a point. The Doctor truly couldn’t speak for any other member of the crew. He had forgiven Jim a long time ago for attacking him in Sick Bay. But the others? The young Captain had verbally assaulted several members of his crew, including Uhura. He had nearly killed Chekov. And Carol—what he did to her was unthinkable. Those were all things that weren’t easily forgiven, mental illness or not.

“It is what it is, Jim. You just have to have a little faith that everyone will understand. You can’t force them, but they’re all educated and compassionate. The facts are there—you were suffering from an imbalance. It controlled you. It made you do horrible things. But…”

“…but at the end of the day, it’s their decision whether or not to forgive.”

“In essence, yes.”

Kirk looked away from the Doctor, a remorseful expression on his face. He started off into the corner of the room as he spoke. “I don’t deserve their forgiveness.”

“Now don’t start this shit again. Jim Kirk is feisty and ready to scrap at a moment’s notice—not maudlin.”

“It’s hard for me to forget what I did.”

“And you shouldn’t. But don’t let it consume you. Now is the time to begin healing. Move on. We’re a family on this ship, each and every one of us. Families forgive—in time.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

Kirk was silent for several moments, eyes closed. He pulled his legs up close to his torso, curled into the fetal position. McCoy knew his stomach must be killing him. He was actually shocked he hadn’t thrown up—again.                              

“What will happen if this fails?” Jim’s voice was weak.

“It’s not gonna, kid. This last push will do the trick, I’m sure of it.”

_No you’re not._

“Whatever you say, Bones.” Jim shivered. “I’m cold—and thirsty.”

McCoy poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the small side table and gently eased Jim’s head up off the pillow so he could drink.

He hoped he hadn’t just lied to his best friend.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

**Two Days Later**

 

Leonard McCoy almost did a cartwheel in the middle of his office.

He rubbed his eyes and got closer to the screen, squinting to make sure what he was seeing was actually present. There, staring him in the face—were the results he had resorted to praying for.

The enzyme was gone.

Not just diminished, not shrinking— _gone._

He told himself not to get too excited, to slow down and not jump to conclusions. Making the decision to draw another blood sample and re-check his results made him feel like a physician again, and not just a giddy child.

And there it was—again—the ending to which everyone was looking forward to.

No enzyme present.

At all.

It was like it hadn’t even existed.

He wanted to scream it over ship-wide channels, tell every single person on the _Enterprise_ that their Captain had been given a new lease on life—again. But he knew that protocol had to be obeyed, and he couldn’t be hasty in anything when it came to Jim. Because just when you’d think everything was hunky-dory, the kid would throw some kind of monkey wrench in the workings—not necessarily on purpose—and screw everything up.

After all, he was James T. Kirk.

“M’Benga, would you please come into my office for a moment?” McCoy tried his absolute hardest to remain stoic in his comm.

Moments later, his colleague appeared, eager to hear what the Doctor had to say. “Ok Len, you’ve never been that polite on a comm in your life. Either something’s wrong—or something’s incredibly right…”

McCoy couldn’t keep the smile off his lips any longer. “I’d like you to take a look at something and tell me what you see.”

The other man rounded McCoy’s desk and peered at the computer screen. A short moment later, he yelped with joy and clapped the CMO on the back with such force that he nearly fell off of his chair.

“It’s gone!”

“It worked, Geoff. It actually worked.” McCoy smiled broadly. “And not only did it succeed in eradicating the enzyme from his system, but Khan’s platelets aren’t there either.”

“Do you think the Captain can survive without Khan’s blood?”

“Well, he’s alive right now, isn’t he?” He paused for a moment. Was he really sure Jim could live without the assistance? The blood had brought him back to life, rebuilt him from the inside-out. Now without it, would his body slowly start to die again? He suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

“We’ll have to keep an eye on him.” M’Benga laid a hand on his shoulder. “He’s gonna be alright. I’m sure this won’t have a negative effect. Don’t let a ‘what if’ mar this incredible occasion.”

McCoy nodded in agreement. “You’re right. You’re starting to sound like me, you know.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment? You’re kind of crabby…”

“Shut up and take a seat, wouldja? We’ve got a lot of test results to go over before we talk to Jim.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

 

“So, how are you feeling?”

Kirk looked up to see his best friend and CMO standing in the doorway of his private room.

“Not so sick right now. I actually was able to keep down some chicken broth.” He eyed him suspiciously. “You don’t look stressed. What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing much.” The older man sat on the rolling stool at Jim’s bedside. “Have any headaches? Visions? Any…madmen trying to force their way out of your brain?”

“No. It’s been…nice.” Jim paused for a long moment before continuing. “You know, I’ve been feeling so shitty this past week that I really didn’t have time to think about it. The ‘other me’ hasn’t made an appearance. Do you think…”

McCoy smiled and handed Jim his PADD and pointed to an image. It looked like a blood sample. “What do you see?”

Kirk squinted. “Blood cells? It’s been a long time since I’ve had a biology class, Bones.”

“Correct, red blood cells to be exact. Now, what _don’t_ you see?”

“Cut the medical lesson, will you? Just tell me already, that’s an order.”

“Remember back when I showed you that troublesome enzyme wrapping itself around your blood cells? The same enzyme that was leeching off of your neurons and making you into a psychotic lunatic?” McCoy tapped on the image, enhancing it. “They’re gone.”

“Gone?”

“We did it, kid.”

Jim didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. A giant surge washed over his body, and had he not felt so weak he more than likely would have leapt from his bed and onto his friend’s lap. His body still ached, his stomach still turned and his hair was nothing more than patchy spots—but in that moment he felt like he could fly.

It was finally over.

“Does that mean...?”

“I think _he’s_ gone, Jim. I think you ‘re back.”

Kirk laced his fingers together on his lap and looked down at his hands. “How can we be sure?”

“We’ll do a full brain scan, a complete and ongoing psych evaluation and keep you under close monitoring for quite a while. But I think we’re in the clear.”

“And Khan’s blood?”

“As far as we can tell, there’s no trace of his platelets left. Granted, your own blood cells have been ravaged too, but as far as that asshole is concerned—it’s over. We were right—his blood was like a cancer, and the chemicals killed it. I guess that Augment shit was good at something after all—gettin’ killed.”

“Can I survive without it? I mean, it _did_ bring me back from the dead.”

McCoy nodded as he slid up the sheet at the foot of Jim’s biobed and unlocked the restraint around his ankle. He dropped in unceremoniously on the floor. “I don’t see why not.   M’Benga and I crunched the info and did some tests on your blood samples. Your body seems to be doing just fine without it. Granted, you more than likely won’t be super strong and resilient anymore, but I think that’s something you can live with, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely no traces of him left?”

“Nope. Every bit of that bastard is gone.”

For the first time in quite a while—maybe even ever—James T. Kirk was speechless. He knew nothing he could say to his CMO could ever express his gratitude for everything that had happened. McCoy had stayed with him through thick and thin: when he had attacked him, verbally assaulted him, treated him like garbage. He had looked on as the intruder in his mind had screamed and battered his own body until it bled and left him unconscious. Through everything—Leonard McCoy had been the only constant in his life.

“Bones, I…” Jim’s eyes began to well. “…I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Jim.” He took his PADD back. “I’m not big on the sappy stuff anyway.”

“Does this mean I also don’t have to get any more of that awful stuff that helps my white blood cells to come back?” Jim felt queasy just thinking about how terrible the medication made him feel. It was almost as bad as the chemotherapy itself.

“No chance. You need to take at least three more doses of it. Sorry, kid. If we don’t bump up your white cell count, you could get really sick—sicker than you are right now.”

“Well shit. I at least had to try and weasel my way out of it.”

“I would expect nothing less from you, you infant.”

Kirk smiled, even though he knew he was in for more days—perhaps even weeks—of feeling terrible. But it was all worth it. His best friend had saved him.

“You outdid yourself, Doctor McCoy. Starfleet should build a statue of you in front of the Medical Academy.”

“More like crucify me on the quad. The brass isn’t the biggest fan of my antics right now. I’ll be lucky to get off with only a dishonorable discharge when all is said and done.” He looked down at his hands. “But it’s worth every goddamn minute just knowing that you’re alright. Screw my commission—you’re more important.”

“I won’t let that happen. I’ll fight it.”

McCoy offered a weak smile. “Thanks, kid, but I don’t think you’ll have a say. Hell, I won’t have a say. No one will—except the Admirals. And let’s face it, they can be assholes.”

“I just wish they could see it from my perspective. You saved me—twice.”

“True, but both times I went behind their backs. I don’t think they’ll give me second chance. Not without some sort of divine intervention.”

Jim’s eyes saddened. “I won’t go back out without you. I’ll quit.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort.” McCoy scowled. “Look, there’s no sense in worryin’ about it right now anyway. Let’s get your pow-wow with the Admirals out of the way first, alright?”

“You’re right, as always.”

The older man smiled slyly. “Damn straight, I’m right. Now get some rest and I’ll be back to check on you later. And if I find out that you’ve been trying to escape, I’ll sedate you. Got it?”

Kirk laughed. “Yes, Sir.”

McCoy rose to leave. “We’ll always be a good team, Jim. Whether or not we’re together on a ship or millions of miles apart. Nothing can change that.”

For the second time that morning, the young Captain was without words.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Dissociation: Chapter Fourteen

                Kirk rubbed his hand back and forth over the smooth skin on his head.

As he looked at himself in the mirror, he couldn’t help but laugh at the reflection. Never in his life had he been without hair, and the image staring back at him seemed incredibly ridiculous. He hoped it would grow back soon.

At the rather rude insistence of his best friend, he had allowed the man to shave his head. According to Bones, he had resembled a “rabid squirrel with the mange”, and the CMO had barged into his cabin with a set of clippers and a bottle of Kentucky’s finest.

Now, with that physical trace of his treatment gone, an outsider to the situation would have never known anything had been wrong with the young Captain. He just looked skinny. Granted, he was still miserably nauseous and in constant pain deep in his bones due to the white cell boosters he was still receiving, but as far as he was concerned, it was just a small part of his penance for everything that had happened.

Jim knew that Khan’s physical mark on him was gone, and the monster he had harbored in his brain along with it—but it still didn’t stop him from thinking about all the horrible things he had done.

To his best friend.

To Chekov.

Uhura.

_…Carol._

She hadn’t come to see him when he was in Medical. Granted, he had told McCoy to keep any and all visitors away, but he thought she would have at least tried. Yes, she had commed him several times, but truth be told he had been too weak to even type a response on his PADD, let alone talk to her. Besides, he had looked like death, and she didn’t need to see that.

Leaving his bathroom, he briefly contemplated getting in bed and trying to sleep, but he was just so relieved to be back in his cabin that he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest. He still felt weak, and knew he would for quite some time, but being out of Sick Bay had given him a second wind.

Plus, he knew he should really begin reaching out to his crew.

He just didn’t know where to start—or what to say. It wasn’t every day that a Starfleet Captain went on a rampage with a monster in his brain.

Jim decided to make a list. Archaic, maybe—but it served a purpose. He knew he had hurt a lot of people. Too many to try and remember on his own. If he had a record at least, he wouldn’t forget anyone. Forgoing his PADD, he rifled through his desk drawer until he located a worn journal. He hadn’t written anything inside in ages, and Kirk figured now was a good time to start. Finding a pen in the same drawer, he plopped down on his couch and began to scribble names on the first empty page he found.

_Carol_

_Chekov_

_Bones_

_Uhura_

_Spock_

_Yeoman Cortez_

_Yeoman Garand_

_Yeom—_

His door chimed, stopping him from finishing. He sighed heavily, not expecting any visitors. Jim really didn’t feel like engaging with anyone—yet. Sitting quietly for a moment, he thought maybe whoever it was would go away; perhaps they’d think he was sleeping.

The door chimed again, this time followed by a soft voice coming through the comm panel.

_“Jim? Are you there? It’s…it’s Carol.”_

Here it was, a chance to right the first of many wrongs—and he was terrified. What if she came to yell at him? He certainly deserved that. Perhaps she had come to try and mend their relationship? He _most certainly_ wanted that. But, what if she came to sever all ties with him? To tender her resignation? To tell him—she was leaving?

He could hear his CMO’s voice in his head telling him to suck it the fuck up, get up off his ass and answer the goddamned door. Bones was always right.

Setting the journal down on the table, he got up and headed to the door. He let out a billowing breath and slid his finger over the keypad. Carol, startled by the door opening, jumped back slightly.

“I didn’t know if you would answer or not.”

Kirk stared at her, taking in every inch of her beauty. It had been weeks since he had seen her, and even then it had ended with him verbally abusing her. It felt like ages since he had gazed upon her with clear vision.

“You came.”

Carol clasped her hands at her abdomen. Her voice was quiet. “I almost didn’t.”

Jim wanted to reach out to her, to physically guide her into his cabin—but it would break his heart should she flinch or push his offer away. So instead, he extended a hand into the dimly lit room and asked her inside.

She walked past him silently as she crossed the threshold, then stood awkwardly beside his living room chair. Taking a moment to look around the room, she finally spoke.

“Looks like you were able to put everything back the way it was. Doctor McCoy said it was pretty destroyed in here.”

Kirk looked around at his living room and wondered if she had seen the carnage left by his rampage. He vaguely remembered destroying furniture, decorations and electronics in a rage-filled blitz. The quartermaster had done a good job of replacing common items, but the young Captain knew that there were some things that would never come back to him. The bookshelf that had contained the glass model of the _Enterprise_ now had an empty hole where the statuette had been. He knew it was a one-of-a-kind piece, unable to be replaced.

“They were just material things. I’m more concerned about if I can get my friends back. If…I can get you back.”

“Well, that’s what I came to talk about. May I sit?”

“Of course you can sit. I’m not a formal guy; you don’t have to ask permission.” Jim’s heart sunk a bit when she chose to sit in the chair and not on the sofa beside him. But, she was here—and that was the first step. He couldn’t expect her to be close right away.

He watched as she wrung her hands nervously in her lap, and as her eyes darted around the room, looking at everything but him. A split second later, she had spotted his journal and he wished he had closed it when he put it down.

“You’ve made a list—and my name’s first. Why?”

Jim picked up the small notebook and moved to the end of the couch to be as close to her as possible. He hesitated for a moment before handing it over. “It’s all the people I’ve hurt. Everyone who needs an apology. You’re first because you’re the most important.”

“I think Chekov should be first. After all, you almost took his life.”

“Well, you’re here now, so it’s your turn to hear me out.” He accepted the book back from her, closed it and set it on the glass tabletop. “So, do you go first, or should I?”

For the first time since she arrived, Carol looked directly into his eyes. “I want to start. I’ve thought a lot about what I wanted to say and I just need to get it all off my chest. I want you to listen, and not interrupt.”

“I want you to be totally honest with me.”

“Don’t worry, I intend to.”

Kirk mentally cringed at the seriousness of her voice. He instantly became very scared of what she was going to say.

Carol took a deep breath and began. “There’s no easy way to segue into it, so I’m just going to say it. You raped me.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “You raped me—and that’s something I will never be able to forgive you for.”

“Carol, I…”

“I told you not to interrupt.” She held her hand up to stop his response. “Give me a minute to gather my thoughts.”

Jim sat silently, trying not to stare. He was very quickly getting a bad feeling about this whole conversation.

“These last few weeks have been terrible for all of us—for you. I can’t imagine the horror you experienced when that madman was in control. I tried to convince myself that you didn’t know what was going on, or didn’t feel anything. But, I’m pretty sure that’s not the truth.”

Kirk shuddered at the mention of the ‘Other Jim’. All the horrible things he had said, terrible actions he had taken—he was present for it all. Like a reluctant audience member watching as the performers were all murdered one-by-one on stage by a lunatic.

“I know that he’s gone, and that you’re on the path to recovery. And for that, I am truly relieved—not only for you, but for everyone on board this ship.” She hesitated before looking him straight in the eyes. “And that’s why my decision was not made lightly and most certainly not with ease.”

_Oh, God._

“I’m leaving the _Enterprise_ at Starbase Primus. I’ve already contacted the Commander there, and he’s agreed to get me transport to Earth.” She swallowed hard and straightened her shoulders. Jim could tell she was trying to be strong. “I know that you were being controlled, and that it wasn’t entirely your fault. But…”

Jim reached out to try and take her hand, but she quickly drew it away.

“…but I just can’t get past what happened. I’ve tried to convince myself it will get better in time, that the horrible memories will fade. And then I realize that I’d never be able to be close to you again, not after what happened. Your mind may not have been present, but your body was. I’ll never be able to be intimate with you.”

Kirk could feel his face flushing. He willed himself not to weep. Even now, after Khan’s blood was gone and the enzyme that had controlled him eradicated, his life was still unraveling. “Carol, I…please don’t do this. Please…let’s talk about this.”

“There’s nothing more to discuss. I’ve made up my mind. I tried to convince myself that I could stay and work through everything, but I know now that there’s no way for me to remain on the _Enterprise_. I can’t work every day knowing that I’ll see you—see your face. I wouldn’t be able to give my all, knowing that you were always there.”

“You don’t have to leave. Just because you’re here on the ship with me doesn’t mean we have to be romantically involved!”

“It’s not that simple, Jim. There’s no way we could ever be out here in the black and stay ‘just friends’.” A small wistful smile crossed her lips for a split second. “I had dreams of us getting married. Having a few little Kirks running up and down the corridors of the _Enterprise_. It would have been lovely.”

“It still can be, Carol!”

She licked her dry lips. “It’s too late, Jim. The damage was done the moment you…” She looked down at her hands in her lap.

All Kirk could do was hang his head. He didn’t even have a response. He knew that she had every right to leave the ship, and told himself to consider it a blessing that he wasn’t back in the brig right now for his actions against her.

“I want you to know that I wish everything could be different. That we could just go back to the way things were.”

Jim felt as if he was moving on autopilot. He almost didn’t hear the words come from his mouth.   “What will you do after you leave?”

“There’s a position open at the Academy for an Armaments Instructor. It will be a nice change from outer space.” She considered her next words carefully before speaking again. “And don’t worry; I’ll make sure that Starfleet knows it was _my_ decision to leave. I’ll be truthful about whatever is asked of me, but I will make it clear that you should be allowed to keep your commission.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

“Someday.” Carol took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “A part of me will always love you. Whether we like it or not, we have a history. Not all of it is good—but there were wonderful times.”

“Is there absolutely nothing I can do to change your mind?”

Carol shook her head and stood. “I’m afraid not. This is for the best, Jim, even if you can’t see that right now.”

“I’m sorry, Carol. I can’t say it enough. I wish…”

“I know, Jim.”

“I’ll never stop loving you.”

Doctor Marcus moved towards the door, turning just as it opened. “Take care of yourself. You’re a great Captain. Give the galaxy hell.”

Jim watched as she left, before slumping back down onto his couch.

He didn’t cry.

 

 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Dissociation: Chapter Fifteen

                “She left, Bones.”

McCoy looked at his best friend as he sloshed his bourbon around in the small glass. He couldn’t say he was surprised, but he had hoped she would have decided to try and make it work. The Doctor didn’t blame her in the end, after all—something horrible had happened.

“I know. She asked me to transfer her medical records back to the Academy.” He looked at his friend with sympathetic eyes. “I’m sorry, kid.”

“Me too.” Jim took a long sip of the brown liquid. “But I’ve been thinking about it constantly since yesterday and I don’t fault her. It still stings, though.”

“It’s gonna sting for a long time, Jim. Maybe even forever.”

Kirk sighed and drained his glass. Reaching for the bottle, he filled his tumbler before topping off that of his friend. “I don’t want it to stop hurting. It’s a reminder of what I did.”

“Now don’t go livin’ the rest of your life like that. She’s given you a gift, even if you don’t realize it. She’s right—you two can’t function around each other anymore. The ship would suffer, the crew would suffer—and you’d be more miserable than ever knowing that she was on the _Enterprise_ and you couldn’t have her.”

“You’re right.”

“Damn straight.” The Doctor raised his glass at his friend in a small toast. “You ever get to talk to Chekov?”

“Yes. He was surprisingly forgiving.”

“How so?”

Jim smiled. “He actually apologized to _me._ The kid actually thought had he done something different on the bridge that day, he could have stopped me and all this shit could have been avoided.”

“He cares about you, Jim.”

“It’s amazing anyone still does.”

McCoy rolled his eyes. “Are you going to start this shit again? It’s in the past. That bastard is gone and you’ve taken your rightful place in your own brain again.”

Kirk chuckled. “I’m surprised you haven’t hit me.”

“For being a maudlin crybaby? I just might.”

The two men toasted each other and sipped their spirits before turning their attention to the stars flying by the window.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

_“Thank you for taking our comm, Captain Kirk. I’m relieved to see that you’re in good health.”_

Jim Kirk smiled softly at his viewscreen. “Thank you, Admiral Magnussen. It feels incredible to have my uniform on again. I’m anxious to get back to duty.”

_God, I hope this isn’t the last time I ever get to wear it._

_“One step at a time, Captain.”_ The man on the screen shuffled a few papers on his desk. _“I’ll admit that I had some reservations about conducting this hearing over subspace channels, but I realize that the Enterprise is just too far out to bring you back in a timely manner.”_

“Thank you for agreeing, Sir.”

_“Let’s get down to business, shall we? You’re in a lot of trouble, James.”_

“Yes, Sir.”

_“Now, we understand that your mental imbalance was due to a medical condition, but we can’t ignore the fact that you almost took the life of your navigator, verbally assaulted members of your crew and took a hostage. This is not behavior we condone in a starship Captain.”_

“I understand—and agree wholeheartedly. But Admiral—“

_“I’m not finished.”_

“I’m sorry for interrupting. Please continue.”

_“The use of Augment blood in a case such as yours had never been attempted before and was highly experimental. No one could have foreseen the future—or what it would do to you. This fact makes this situation extremely delicate. There are no legal precedences when it comes to incidents of this nature.”_

Jim studied the man on the screen. He was completely unreadable. There was no hint of any emotion in his vocal tone, or expression. Admiral Magnussen was known as a hard-ass throughout the fleet, and Kirk was getting a first-hand taste. He wanted to badly to interject, but he knew is job—his career—was on the line.

_“In light of all of these variables…”_

Kirk swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He hung on the Admiral’s words, knowing that in mere seconds, his life as he once knew it could very well be over.

_“…we’ve decided to allow you to keep your commission.”_

Jim couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath. He had never in his life felt relief like he was experiencing now. The Admiral’s next words almost went unheard in his newly-induced stupor.

_“This does not mean, however, that you are escaping without punishment.”_

“Of course, Admiral.”

 _“In essence, at least for the time being, you will be a co-Captain of the ship. Mister Spock will share duties with you. No executive decisions will be made without his approval. We will revisit your condition and mental capabilities in six months and make a decision about whether or not this will continue. You will also undergo monthly psych evaluations by both the ship’s counselor and with Starfleet physicians via subspace channels.”_ The man’s expression softened, something Jim had never seen in all his time in the Fleet. _“I realize you weren’t in control, and I want you to know that I personally fought for this. The other Admirals wanted to remove you from duty and incarcerate you. I had to—make some personal sacrifices to ensure this went smoothly. Don’t let me down, James.”_

The young Captain was instantly thrown back to another office in another time—before all of this ever happened. As the Admiral spoke, Kirk didn’t hear the man’s voice—but that of Christopher Pike. His words were sincere and caring, and he never thought he’d be treated that way by any high ranking official again. Pike had been like a father to him—hard-nosed when he needed to be, but always compassionate. When the man had died, Jim resigned to the fact that he would never encounter another person like him again.

And now, flashing across subspace channels, was another glimmer of hope. Admiral Magnussen had put his own neck on the line because he believed in him. Jim desperately wanted to know just what the officer had offered up in exchange for leniency, but he felt it better never to ask. If he wanted to offer that kind of information at a later date, he would. For now, Kirk was just internally grateful that another person would risk so much for him.

_“Your Starfleet jacket will remain untarnished, the records sealed. We are prepared to put this all behind us and move forward with you at the helm of our flagship.”_

“I…I don’t know what to say, Admiral. After all that has happened, I had come to terms with the fact that I would more than likely never be a Starfleet officer again. I can never thank you enough for this second chance.”

_“No thanks are necessary, Captain. Just work hard, respect your crew and go find incredible things in this vast galaxy—and beyond.”_

“May I ask a question, Admiral?”

_“Of course.”_

“What about Doctor McCoy? He’s saved my life more times than I’d care to admit. I beg you to be lenient with him, as you were with me. This ship needs him. I…need him.”

_“What happens to McCoy is not your concern, James. We’re discussing you right now. His situation is being dealt with separately and I assure you that all evidence will be noted and every bit of discretion will be taken when the other Admirals make their decision.”_

Jim was suddenly very worried for his friend. The fact that ‘other Admirals’ would be making the decisions that would ultimately decide whether or not Leonard McCoy had a future career with Starfleet made him feel faint. Admiral Magnussen had ensured his career safety—but could do nothing to save Bones. McCoy’s fate rested in the hands of other officers, and nothing Kirk could say or do would influence them.

“I can’t go back out there without my CMO at my side.”

_“Then that will be your choice when punishment is handed down.”_

The finality in the man’s voice told Jim not to pursue that line of conversation any longer.

“I understand, Admiral.”

 _“Good.”_ He sat straight-backed in his chair and folded his hands on the desktop, fingers laced together. _“Starfleet is considering this matter closed. You are to return to active duty immediately, with all new exclusions in place. Six months from now there will be another conference to discuss how to proceed.”_

“Yes, Sir.”

_“Take care of yourself, Captain Kirk. And know that you are being watched closely. This is your last chance.”_

The screen went black and the young Captain turned to look at the stars.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“Len, where are you going? Ensign Savoy needs a cardiac workup and there’s a backlog of vaccines to administer. We’re short-handed today with two of the nurses sick.”

McCoy sighed and shook his head. “Back to my cabin, that’s where. Starfleet’s orders.”

“What?” He tossed his PADD on a medical cart and grabbed his colleague by the arm. Both men ducked into an unoccupied exam pod. “What do you mean, ‘Starfleet’s orders’? They can’t just take you off duty.”

“They can and they have. I just got off the horn with Admiral Xuang. I’m being formally reprimanded for all the shit that has gone down and they’re taking a day to decide what to do. They…want to remove me from the ship.”

“Oh my God, Len.”

“Yeah. So, in the interim, you’re the CMO. I’m not allowed to see patients, to view records—hell, I’m not even allowed to set foot in Medical.”

“I don’t want to be CMO. _You’re_ the Chief, doc.”

“Well, you don’t have a choice, and neither do I.” He forced a smile. “Don’t go messin’ up my desk, got it?”

“I’m not even going in your office. You’ll be back tomorrow. You’ll see.”

“Yeah, sure.”

The Doctor slid past the other man and exited Sick Bay. He fought the urge to look back, as if something was telling him it was the last time he’d ever see it.

By the time he had returned to his quarters, he had convinced himself that he might as well start packing his bags so he could be ready when they yanked his commission. He wondered how he was going to fit all the stupid tchotchke gifts that Jim had given him into one duffel.

After a few moments of looking around his cabin, he decided it wasn’t worth his time—and that bourbon was a much better solution. It wasn’t like he was going to be called back on duty tonight, anyway.

His mind went back over the conversation he had engaged in with the brass as he swirled the alcohol around in the glass in his hand.

Xuang had been very much to the point.

McCoy had lied to them, kept vital information from their attention, allowed his Captain to roam without treatment for some time and put the ship in danger with his miscalculations about Kirk’s condition. He knew that those items alone warranted a court martial and dishonorable discharge from the Fleet.

Xuang’s words hung with him.

_“You’ve proven yourself to be somewhat of a troublemaker, Doctor, much like your Captain. Your insubordination has surpassed any acceptable limits for service aboard a starship. You should be thankful that a consideration of an Earth-bound position with the Federation is even an option at this time. It will take nothing short of a miracle for you to remain on the Enterprise.”_

A miracle.

Like he believed in that shit anyway.

“There’s no sense in worrying about what I can’t control.”

The empty room did not answer him.

Raising his glass in an imaginary toast to his coffee table, he downed the serving in one gulp.


	16. Chapter 16

Dissociation: Chapter Sixteen

                  _“Doctor McCoy, there’s an incoming comm line from Starfleet.”_

The sound of Uhura’s soft voice didn’t lessen the terror rising in his throat. He knew what was about to happen.

“Patch them through, please.” He stood in front of his wall-mounted viewscreen. Moments later, Admiral Xuang’s stern face appeared.

_“Good Morning, Doctor McCoy.”_

“Thank you, Admiral. I trust you’re well?”

_“Always. Shall we get down to business?”_

McCoy took a deep breath. “Of course.”

_“Very well then. It is the decision of the Medical Council that you will remain on the Enterprise as Chief Medical Officer.”_

Leonard almost fainted. He felt his legs go weak and his heart leapt in his chest.

_“Your records, logs and all comms will be monitored by a liaison here at Starfleet Headquarters, and you will undergo monthly conferences with myself and the other Admirals to discuss every single thing that has happened on the ship, no matter how mundane it is. You will document absolutely everything, and be held accountable for all of your actions.”_

“Yes, Ma’am.”

_“Furthermore, Doctor M’Benga will also be reporting to us on your actions, decisions, and whereabouts. Nothing will go unnoticed, Doctor.”_

He couldn’t believe they had roped Geoff into this. God knows he wouldn’t like it. He could already see him fuming in private after the brass had told him.

“I understand. If I may speak candidly?”

_“Go ahead.”_

“Honestly, I’m gob smacked. I thought for sure I was done in the Fleet.”

_“It seems that miracles do indeed happen, Doctor. There was a confidential testimony to your talent, medical know-how and importance to the welfare of the ship.”_

Immediately, his brain was racing trying to figure out who had spoken on his behalf. Surely it wasn’t Jim—and even if it had been, they Admirals wouldn’t have allowed his comments to sway their judgment. After all, he was under their watchful eyes as much as the good Doctor.

_“I would like you to know, however, that it took a grand amount of convincing by this individual. We were prepared to terminate and court martial you. I hope you understand the significance of this decision, and the weight that this person’s opinion carries.”_

“I understand, Admiral. And I’m eternally grateful to not only you and the Medical Council, but to—whoever it was that went to bat for me.”

_“I’m glad you see it that way, Doctor. You are hereby reinstated at CMO of the Enterprise and may return to duty at any time.”_

“I’ll be in Sick Bay in five minutes, Ma’am.”

_“See to it that you are very careful, Doctor. One slip-up and you will be on the first transport shuttle to Earth—no matter how far out you are. Are we clear?”_

“Crystal, Admiral.”

_“Good.”_

The screen went blank and McCoy sank to the floor in a relieved heap. After a long moment, he decided he had to figure out who had spoken on his behalf. His first inkling was Sulu, and he sent him a private message right away. Within seconds, his response arrived.

**_“Wasn’t me, Doctor. Although I would have in a heartbeat. But, a certain First Officer was talking to Starfleet for an awful long time in the Captain’s ready room last night.”_ **

“That green-blooded son-of-a-bitch…”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

“Doctor McCoy, you wished to speak with me?”

The CMO looked up from the mountain of files on his desk. He was dumbfounded as to how all this shit could pile up in less than a day.

“Spock, take a seat.”

The First Officer acknowledged the Doctor with a slight nod and sat.

McCoy eyed him up for a moment before starting. “So, have any nice long chats recently? Say, oh I don’t know…with Admiral Xuang?”

“I have communicated with her, yes.”

“Look, I know it was you.”

“I assume you are speaking of the discussion I had with her yesterday. The details of our conversation are classified, Doctor.”

“Classified, eh? So you didn’t say anything on my behalf, convincing her and the Medical Council to let me stay on the ship?”

“Again, our conversation was classified, Doctor. That is all I am at liberty to say.”

McCoy clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth and narrowed his eyes at the Vulcan. “Well, I guess if it were to turn out that it was you who came to my defense, I would have to say thank you. You know, if it was you.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Is there anything more that you require of me, Doctor? I have duties on the bridge that need my attention.”

Leonard had to stifle a laugh. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought Spock was trying to get out of the situation. Maybe he had more human in him than he realized.

“Nah, get out of here.”

The First Officer stood and moved to leave. As he crossed the threshold of the office, he turned to face the CMO. “I suppose if one were to accept gratitude for the actions that you have mentioned, one would more than likely say ‘you’re welcome’.”

He left before McCoy could respond.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

The general meeting hall aboard the _Enterprise_ was crowded and loud.

The entire crew, save for several officers minding posts that could not go unattended, was eagerly awaiting the arrival of their Captain.

After a few long moments, the side doors opened and Kirk, flanked by Spock and McCoy, emerged. He was greeted with a round of applause. Making his way to the podium set up at the far end, he extended his hands in a motion to quiet them down.

“Please, I don’t need nor do I deserve your applause. I just want you all to listen.”

The crew quieted instantly and gave them their undivided attention. He stared out at all their faces.

“I’ve gathered you all here today for one reason—to apologize. To lay myself bare and beg for your forgiveness.” He paused for a moment and sighed. “But God knows I don’t deserve it. What I did…it was reprehensible. You all trusted me to keep you safe and I failed you.”

The crowd stayed silent, all eyes locked on their Captain.

“I want you all to know that nothing I can say will repair the damage that has been done. My life has been turned upside-down, and that means yours all have as well. But I beg you to believe me when I say that it’s all over. That madman that took over is gone, and he’s never coming back.” Jim closed his eyes for a second and blew out a breath. “I’ve been given a gift by the Admiralty—they’re allowing me to remain as your Captain. I won’t go into details, but it’s not without a price, I assure you.”

Jim looked over to his CMO and First Officer. “These two men at my side saved me. Especially Doctor McCoy. I would not be here today without them. Today is a new day. We return to the black, to our mission. And…” he smiled broadly. “…we do it together.”

The crew erupted into applause and cheers, and they all jumped to their feet in a raucous ovation.

Jim couldn’t help but feel immense pride for his crew. Here they were applauding the man who nearly destroyed everything they knew—because they believed in him.

And finally, after months of doubt, he believed in himself.

He dismissed them with a salute and watched with great happiness as they all returned to their posts.

“That was a nice speech, Captain.”

Kirk turned at the sound of the soft voice. Uhura stood off to his side, arms crossed over her abdomen.

“I meant every word of it. Look, Uhura…”

“You don’t need to say anything to me, Jim.”

He approached and cautiously placed his hands on her shoulders. “But I do. I never got to apologize in person for all the horrible things I did. With me being sick and Bones confining me to quarters, time just got away from me.”

She raised her hands to her shoulders and squeezed his fingers. “I know you’re sorry. I know you weren’t in control. There’s nothing left to discuss, really.” She smiled warmly.

“You’re too forgiving.”

Uhura rolled her eyes. “Fine, you want to prove how sorry you are? I’ve always wanted a pair of Markavian hydro-bracelets. They’re made of semi-precious stones and are supposed to relieve stress.”

“Are you saying I stress you out?” He grinned devilishly.

“Yes.” She stood on her toes and pecked him on the cheek.

“Consider it done.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

**Epilogue**

“Keptin on ze bridge!”

Kirk exited the turbolift and immediately settled his eyes on his beloved chair. As he rounded it, he ran his fingers over the cool metal frame, the warm leather upholstery. It certainly felt good to be back.

“Thank you, Mister Chekov.” He sat, taking a moment to situate himself comfortably before continuing. “How’s the ship?”

“All systems normal, Captain.” Spock’s voice was stoic, as always.

“Glad to hear it.” Jim scanned the information on his PADD quickly before tossing it aside. “What’s our next mission, Mister Spock?”

“We are to take data readings on the Broward-Henry Magnetar. We’ve been given coordinates that would keep the ship safe but still allow for the most intensive scans possible.”

“Magnetar, eh? Sounds boring. I think we should see what else is out there.”

Spock stood and moved next to the Captain’s chair. “Sir, may I remind you that you are under the scrutiny of Starfleet and should follow their orders without hesitation.”

“It’s not like we’re never going to scan the thing, Spock! It’ll still be there a week from now.” He winked at Chekov before continuing. “Thank you for your input, Mister Spock. It has been noted.”

The Vulcan returned to his station without another word. Kirk couldn’t explain how he knew, but he felt that this little bit of indiscretion would conveniently be not logged by his science officer.

“Vat heading shall I input, Keptin?”

Kirk flicked his hand at the viewscreen. “Out there somewhere.”

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

_A/N: Well, here we are. It’s finally finished. It may have taken me damn near forever, but a promise is a promise. And I promised this one would see the end._

_I want to thank everyone who has read, commented and enjoyed. I know it took a long time, but in the end I hope the finished product was worth the wait._

_Special thank you to my beta, QuietRaine. All I am as I writer, I owe to you. You and I have been on one hell of a journey together, and I know the best is yet to come for both of us. Marriage, kids, work—we juggled it all and still managed to make time to have fun writing together. I can never thank you enough for everything._

_So what happens now for little ol’ Bebedora? Well, I’m sad to say this is my final Star Trek piece for quite a while. I have just begun my own original work, and I hope that one day I can say I’ve got a published fantasy novel. I won’t be gone forever, and I have a few oneshots in various stages of completion. But as for long, multi-chapter works—this one signals the end._

_I’ve had a blast in this fandom, and I have to say that I’ve met some of the most wonderful people here. I’m so glad that I could offer a little entertainment in your lives, even just for a little while, with what I’ve created._

_So this is it, I guess. Don’t forget about me, because I certainly won’t forget about all of you. Follow me on twitter and you can be updated on my progress with my novel! @AuthorBebedora_

_Thanks, guys. It’s been wonderful._

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Shout out to my excellent beta—and great friend—QuietRaine. Not only did you come up with the title, but you’ve always been an inspiration of great ideas and not scared to wield your mighty red pen. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, and will continue to do. I could never do this without you.
> 
> And Saber Wing, you’re a great sounding board for some pretty strange ideas, and I love that you let me be crazy…and that you share my love of angst. You’ve already given me great input for this story, and I can’t wait to hear what you think!
> 
> I look forward to hearing what everyone thinks of this new one! Get ready for an angsty ride! Thank you in advance to everyone who reads.  
> \--Bebedora.


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